


Band-Aids

by GaleIsSomething



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Dirk Strider and Dave's Bro Aren't the Same Person, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fights, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Music, Schizophrenia, Schizophrenic Gamzee, Sober Gamzee Makara, bc im too lazy to write human/alien culture, i'll probs get to it eventually, im still a piece of garbage, it's gonna get more serious as time goes on, more gamdave tho, pls watch those two added tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaleIsSomething/pseuds/GaleIsSomething
Summary: He wasn't going to care, Dave told himself. Not a single fuck would be given about the stoner clown. That was until said stoner clown took a fucking bite out of a shitty high school elite.





	1. Tapping

**Author's Note:**

> i just have way too much fun writing homestuck. i get to go on stupid rants and it's in character. a blessing. 
> 
> not doing pesterchum bc I'm far too lazy to try and do the formatting lol. sorry not sorry. title subject to change.

Late night mixing probably wasn’t the best idea at the end of break. Dave would be honest and say that his sleep schedule isn’t a schedule. Not even remotely a grid, there was no metaphorical planner for him to mark his sleeping times on. He slept when he could and when he felt like it. Bro didn’t care as long as he saw Dave eat at least one meal a day, and like Bro was one to judge. Bright side, or slightly less dim side he guessed, was he got a few more songs done. Karkat might complain that his music was annoying, but the ball of rage had no idea what it was to like a variety.

Dave was woken up by the lights being turned on in his room. He was barely able to register what had happened--he fell asleep at his laptop editing the timing on one of the effects--before he was pulled from his bed. His blanket was pulled out from under him like it was a rip cord and Bro was the white suburban dad trying to start the lawnmower for some good old cliche lawn tending. Dave patted the floor until he had his shades in hand. He put them on his face, looking up at Bro. He informed Dave in his monotone voice that Dave had school in a few hours. Bro walked out of the room silently and left Dave on the floor, his blankets all piled around him. Dave decided he didn't want to waste the time. He skipped out on hygiene during breaks, which was one of his worse decisions, and needed a shower.

Bro was in the kitchen, making him a lunch in a brown paper bag like the white suburban mom he liked to act like occasionally. For the irony, of course. Dave was just relieved he didn’t pull out the pink frilly apron Dave got him as a gift. After carefully removing the puppets the were inexplicably in the bathroom like always, Dave took his sweet time in the shower. He blow-dried his hair and Bro shouted from the kitchen about breakfast being done. Dave ran to his room and got dressed before he got ambushed by any choice puppet ass. He wondered if anyone would try and call him out on wearing the same thing. He didn’t, he just owned a lot of the same clothes. 

Summer heat be damned, Dave would never go a day without his skinny jeans unless death was imminent. Striders didn’t give in to that kind of shit. Being so cool all the time required suffering. He was considering wearing a long sleeve to cover up the bruises and MLP Band-Aids from strifes with Bro over the break that didn’t seem nearly as long as it was said to be. His small backpack was stuffed with the shit he might need. It really wasn’t that much. One blank notebook he’d likely never use for actual school work, the one that had his lyrics and music ideas, and the stupid pencil bag Bro got for him. Teeth were brushed quickly while he also brushed his hair. 

Bro handed him a bagel when he walked into the kitchen, along with the brown baggie with the top end rolled over perfectly. Dave nodded at him and Bro gave him a thumbs up and messed up his hair in what was likely supposed to be affectionate. Bro went off somewhere, and Dave shoved the bagel in his mouth as he left the apartment. He ran down the stairs, skipping almost entire flights at a time.

Dave’s phone went off as he ran down the sidewalk towards his bus stop. He dug it out of his pocket and answered it. He had a mouthful of bagel as he tried to respond. 

“Dave, you insufferable shit, don’t you dare try to speak to me with whatever is in your mouth still there,” Karkat snapped from the other line. Dave could hear the exhaustion and probably multiple cups of coffee in his voice. “I’m calling to make sure your elusive ass is still alive.”

“My ass is in top shape, thanks for worrying. This fine piece of Strider rump is in perfect condition,” Dave said. Karkat scoffed and hung up on him before he could get started

Dave reached the stop barely seconds before the bus arrived. He climbed on board and glanced over. He knew that it really didn’t matter where he sat, but if he wasn’t going to turn this into some shitty high school movie made for middle-schoolers, who would. Of course, if this was a shitty high school movie made for middle-schoolers, Dave would be the cool mysterious one who didn’t care. Care about what? The viewers ask, in awe of his coolness and suave Strider-ness. The answer was nothing. Cool kids never gave a shit about anything.

Karkat was sitting near the back, as usual. Wannabe cool kids often tried to sit back there, but were usually turned away by the sheer awesomeness that was Dave Strider, or Karkats shouting. Dave ignored the new freshmen nervously glancing at him as he passed and went to the back of the bus. Karkat looked at him and pointedly put his bag on the other half of the seat he was sitting on. 

Dave made a mock hurt gesture and sat across from him. Karkat rolled his eyes again.

“By the way, shitface,” Karkat said when the bus started moving again. “One of my online friends moved here and he’s going to be hanging around with us.”

“I don’t know if I can accept that,” Dave said, fixing his hair. Karkat gave him one of those looks that expressed complete and utter done-ness. “Some of your friends just aren’t cool enough to hang with my beautiful self. Their dorkiness just completely eclipses my pure awesomeness. How am I going to change lives when my brilliance is blocked?”

“I’m fucking mourning already,” Karkat snapped, looking back down at his phone. “Just attempt to be a decent person.”

“Striders are always gentlemen,” Dave said matter-of-factly.

“You, trying to tell me that after I’ve been attacked by ‘fine plush smuppet ass’ at your apartment, is one of the most ridiculous fucking things I’ve ever heard,” Karkat said, air quotes exaggerated like everything else he did.

Dave snorted and pulled his phone out. He put his bag on the other half of the seat, just to make it clear to any wannabe cool kids that Dave wasn’t dealing with their attempts. He saw a few new faces get on, and glance at the back before deciding to just sit in the middle. Maybe it was the fact that some of the seniors were really intimidating looking--like that Rufioh guy, or the girl with the henna, or that guy who dressed like he was out of the 1950s. Dave knew that Rufioh just looked badass, and he was a complete softy. He also knew the girl with the henna wasn’t mean unless pushed, and who would actually take the greaser guy seriously? He didn’t even smoke a real cigarette. It was one of those weird e-cigs that smelled like strawberries. 

Karkat stayed relatively quiet as the bus went to the next stop. Dave caught up on his social media feeds and read some of the non-ironic appreciation of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. People really didn’t seem to get it, and were digging for some deeper meaning. He wondered how long it would take for them to figure it out.

X X X X X

School was the same. Same teachers, same locker, and same bullshit in general. Karkat stayed near the entrance when they got off the bus. He said he had to wait for his friend since the guy was so out of it usually. Dave decided he didn’t care, and went inside the building. Scared freshmen stuck to walls, bullies shook down nerds for lunch money, and people did stupid things. 

Dave ignored it and went to his locker. He never kept anything that important in there. He stuck his lunch baggie in there and made it so the lock looked closed but it wasn’t. The bus only gave them a minute or two to get to homeroom, and Dave wondered if Karkat actually managed to find his friend before he was marked late. They didn’t share a homeroom, but Dave did know from Karkat’s rants that his homeroom teacher was an ass. 

On his way to homeroom, Dave passed his cousin Rose and her girlfriend. They exchanged a nod of acknowledgment and continued on their separate ways. Dave was surprised he hadn’t run into any other people he knew. John and Jade were probably already in class, like the goody two-shoes they were on the surface. John was probably going to pull some stupid prank and get detention.

The room was mostly filled with Dave walked in. A few people looked up, but most ignored him. There were three guys screwing around near the window, and it looked like one was actually hanging out of it. Dave went to the back of the room and sat at one of the empty desks. He pulled his music notebook out and scribbled some things down to finish what he had half done. 

The teacher walked in a few minutes later, and the guys at the window scrambled to their seats. The teacher looked at them and sighed. Dave agreed. The teacher was Mr. Graver, one of those guys who didn’t care. If he wasn’t a teacher Dave would have to admit he was pretty cool. The teacher put his stuff down on the desk and went through his usual spiel. Welcome to junior year, expectations that Dave would just barely reach, and all the obligatory shit that only the dorks at  the front of the room would care about.

“And, lastly, since most of you have been here since freshman year,” the teacher went on. “I’m required to have the new student joining us to formally introduce himself.” He gestured towards the door and it opened. He nodded for the person to come in. “Come on, there’s some other stuff we have to get to.”

Dave glanced at the new person only when he realized that the only empty seat was next to him. First that that he registered was that said new guy was tall as hell. Taller than Dave, and by a good half head. New guy was even slouching and looked tall. His hair look liked it had never even seen or heard of a brush. What was a hair brush? This dude’s hair didn’t know. Somehow, though, it managed to look half decent. The guy’s whole look was messy. Baggy clothes that might fit if he wasn’t as skinny as he looked. He had some weird clown face paint thing going on, and it the white and gray paint contrasted pretty heavily with his darker skin. 

“Gamzee Makara,” the guy said. His spoke slow like he was half asleep. Dave guessed he was a stoner and just sucked at hiding it. The guy also had a dumb, wide, trademark stoner grin on his face. “Pleasure.”

The class said their hellos and as predicted, the teacher pointed Gamzee to the empty desk next to Dave. Gamzee walked over slowly. He didn’t seem to have any purpose, just shuffling around with long legs. He sat down roughly and put his bag down next to him. Dave knew Gamzee looked at him, but ignored it in favor of pretending to pay attention to the teacher.

Even more obligatory shit. Schedules were passed out and Dave skimmed his over. Painting class shouldn’t be too bad, and he needed more art credits unless he wanted to repeat senior year. He wanted out of the hellhole as fast as possible. Repeating a year was an instant no-go. Plus Bro would never let him hear the end of it. The teacher droned on and on, even if he know most of the class was tuning him out.

That’s when Dave heard a faint tapping noise. At first, he thought it was someone with a pen taking notes. But it kept going. Dave wouldn’t really have minded if it was rhythmic, or had some semblance of a pattern. It didn’t, though, and it started bugging him. He glanced at the clock and decided he’d ignore it until the time ran out. It was only ten minutes. 

Dave could not ignore it, he found. He glanced around him and couldn’t find the source. The sound stopped...and then started again. Why was this bothering him? Dave reminded himself that cool kids didn’t lose their tempers. Then he saw Gamzee shift. Of course it was the stoned out shit head. He was tapping the table with his nails. His nails looked like they were sharped to the goddamn point. 

“Dude, can you stop that?” Dave whispered when Gamzee noticed him looking. There were other side conversations going on around them, and the teacher really didn’t care. 

Gamzee couldn’t be anything but a stoner, Dave thought. He doubted someone could achieve that much of a glazed over look without being high. Gamzee blinked at him slowly, pausing in his tapping. He nodded eventually and moved so his hands were off the table. Dave was just happy that he wasn’t one of those people that would just keep doing something for the pure sake of annoyance.

Near the end of the longer homeroom for review of whatever the teacher was talking about, the tapping started again. Dave glanced over, but Gamzee was looking off with an even more glazed look. 

The bell rang before the tapping got under his skin again, and they were sent off so they could get to their next classes. Dave hoped Gamzee wasn’t in any of his if he was going to keep going on with that goddamn infernal tapping. Had to wonder why someone would keep their nails that sharp, though. The guy could probably give some nasty scratches if prompted. He wondered if anyone would give the guy a reason to start clawing eyes out. The dude seemed too chilled out and high off his ass to get genuinely pissed, though.

School continued as normally as it could. English with John and Jade was entertaining as always. Spit balls were thrown, Shakespearean insults were announced loudly, and ill beats were dropped. The teacher was one of the overly nice ones that would let them get away with almost anything. Somehow, the three of them were also the most polite. Dave guessed it was what they got when they put a lot of the really loud ones in their class.

Science with Karkat was chaotic. To be expected, in reality. Despite Karkat’s frequent denial of friendship, they always ended up lab partners. No one wanted to deal with Karkat’s anger even if it promised them a near perfect grade if they listened to him. Dave didn’t socialize with the commoners, he told his anger-filled partner, and Karkat was just above their tier of uncoolness, so he was blessed with Dave as his partner. It might have been better to have someone who properly appreciated his sick rhymes, but they’d try to search for meaning or some shit and miss the irony. Karkat might shout at him, but he didn’t read into it and kill the actual purpose. 

Math with John and Karkat was neutral, but it was funny watching Karkat trying to keep his fingers wrapped tightly around his shit in an attempt not to flip it. John on his own was a prankster, but with Dave there they wreaked havoc on poor Karkat’s already short temper. The math teacher gave them a few side glances, but Karkat stubbornly kept his shit unflipped. They didn’t get in any trouble besides one warning when Karkat looked ready to throw a chair at Dave--who was definitely guilty of rapping the entirety of Fergalicious repeatedly under his breath after Karkat stopped responding to John quoting his shitty movies. Karkat punched them both when class was dismissed for lunch.

Dave went and got his lunch bag with John, and Karkat went off to find his mythic friend. John talked animatedly about the girlfriend he got over the summer. Someone Dave didn’t know, but sounded kind of strange. He guessed it was a fit for Egbert. They could be weird and watch John’s shitty movies together. 

“But yeah,” John continued as they started walking towards the cafeteria, lunch bag acquired. “She’s really cool! We watched Cage films for like… a week straight. It was awesome.”

“Damn how do you know she isn’t just using you for your shit film collection?” Dave said. John snorted. He accepted Dave calling his movies shit a long time ago. “She’ll woo your naive ass, and you’ll be all happy about. Grinning at the altar. Dad-bert is there. He sheds a single tear for his son getting married to someone who actually likes his shit movie taste. You’ll go to your new house, ‘just hitched’ sign hanging off the back of a car as you drive off into the distance. Then one day, you’ll come home one day from your shit, dead end job, and gone. All your Cage films, the dope ass bunny I bought you, all gone.”

“Dude shut up!” John laughed, shoving his shoulder as they walked into the cafeteria. Rose, her girlfriend who Dave can’t remember the name of, and Jade already claimed their table. “You’re just saying that because she’s taking your bestest bro away from you. Gonna miss me, mister cool kid?” 

Dave looked at him from behind his shades, hoping the feeling he was trying to express was understood.

“No,” Dave said curtly. John gasped in insult and put a hand on his chest like it physically hurt him. 

They sat down at the table. Jade was talking about something to Rose. Rose’s girlfriend was quietly reading a book. Dave opened his lunch bag and got exactly what he expected. Rice and other foods he’d expect in a bento box. Bro didn’t disappoint. John giggled when he saw Dave’s lunch and Dave ate it with pride. 

Eventually, Jade finished her story about some trip she went on over the summer. Then it was Rose’s turn to humble-brag about her psychology camp and the extensive reading she finished over the summer. Her girlfriend--Kanaya, Dave was reminded when Rose pointedly said her name while looking at Dave directly--has a similar vacation, but had been a counselor at a kid’s camp. Dave dismissed questions about his own summer--partially because cool kids didn’t just give out free information like that, and partially because his seemed really boring in comparison.

John found a girlfriend, Jade traveled the world (again), Rose had her own thing, and Kanaya just always seemed productive. Dave just mixed music and ate noodles while bingeing shows at the apartment. He did tell them about the ill beats he finished over the summer, and Jade insisted on him sending some to her. Kanaya offered to listen to it, and provide a more technical view on the content of it. 

Karkat could basically be heard across the room when he walked in. Dave barely glanced over as Karkat sat in front of him, next to Rose. His friend sat next to him and Dave did actually spare a glance at that.

It was Gamzee. Dave wondered why he didn’t connect the dots of weird new guy showing up and Karkat referring to some mystical friend joining them. Gamzee had another stupid dopey grin on his face as he flopped into the seat next to Karkat, bumping into the smaller slightly. Karkat didn’t react, though.

“Shitheads, this is my friend Gamzee,” Karkat introduced. “Gamzee, the shitheads.”

“Sounds like some kinda band,” Gamzee said, grinning even wider. His voice was changing tones and speed even more as he spoke in full sentences. “A kick ass one.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. He went around the little circle and introduced them one by one. Gamzee nodded and smiled at them all. He always seemed to be able to smile wider, and Dave wondered if his face would just expand if needed.

John and Karkat started debating some shitty show while everyone else ate and watched. Dave had forgotten that Gamzee was there until the tapping started again, now mixed with scratching at the table. He really tried to ignore it like everyone else seemed to be doing. Karkat was giving a colorful description about why waffles were the obviously superior breakfast food, and why pancakes were horrific malformed waffles.

Dave nudged Gamzee’s freakishly long legs under the table. Gamzee jolted, but Karkat was too busy describing the “majestic god’s work that is the syrup pockets included in the natural fucking beauty that is a waffle” to notice. Dave was forced to wait for Gamzee to realize who kicked him, then slowly blink at Dave until his eyes looked at least semi-focused. 

“Stop that shit,” Dave said quietly. “I told you in homeroom.”

Gamzee’s face slowly morphed into one of realization and he nodded. His black hair bounced a little as he did so. Dave rolled his eyes, knowing it was hidden behind his rad shades. He turned back to the main conversation as Karkat made his dramatic conclusion, gesticulating broadly.

John looked vaguely impressed, and his argument was nowhere near as kept together as Karkat’s. The anger ball credited it to living in a house with his older brother who could win any debate by sheerly out-talking his opponents. It was clear Karkat was the winner, but if Dave was feeling up to it, he could probably get Karkat to start arguing for the pancake side. Striders never really argued. They got people to do the arguing for them, like only a true cool kid.

Lunch ended fairly quickly, not without Rose psychoanalyzing a few of them. She really tried on Gamzee, and Dave had to admit it was really satisfying to watch the reactions. Gamzee just smiled and snickered whenever she said anything directed at him. Her theorizing about his reason for likely doing the drugs he probably did. Broken family? A casual dopey smile. The possibility of his addiction being based off mental problems? A stream of laughs that sounded vaguely like honks. Rose eventually gave up and Dave had to remind himself to give Gamzee the sweetest of high-fives for that. 

Dave was ready to breeze through the last few classes. Except, once again, like some kind of universe ordained coincidence, Gamzee came shuffling into the painting class Dave was reluctantly taking. 

Gamzee seemed less out of it now, but he was still moseying around more than walking. He put himself next to Dave, and clumsily got settled. When they were doing a warm up sketch thing--a stupid get to know you doodle--Gamzee started that tapping again. Dave huffed and prepared himself to repeat what he said when Gamzee cursed and stopped.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” he said. Dave looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. He had a guilty smile on his face. “It’s a bad habit, brother. I’ll be sure to stop.”

“...Thanks,” Dave said, going back to his sketch. He was laying the irony on strong, probably too strong for the mortal minds in the room. They wouldn’t get the artistically placed puppets and CDs.

Gamzee was hunched over his own drawing and when he leaned up to grab an eraser that got knocked across the table somehow. Dave couldn’t resist glancing over, and was a little surprised. Dark figures and creepy grins, and unsettling angles that didn’t sit right but still worked somehow. Dave would admit to himself that it was really well done, but it was creepy as hell. Gamzee hunched over it again and blocked his view. 

Dave went back to his own, fixing the lines on the Lil Cal skillfully hidden with the apple juice and katanas. He wondered how many were going to take the swords seriously, or mistake it for a gag similar to the expertly crafted irony of the Mr T puppet. Gamzee started humming eventually, along with all the other side conversations. It was off pitch and a song Dave didn’t recognize, which was rare. It was less irritating than the scratching and tapping. 

Except, now he wanted to know what the song was because he almost never ran into a song he hadn’t at least heard part of. He didn’t know if wondering that was better or worse than the back half of his brain trying to figure out the reason anyone would keep their nails that damn sharp. He guessed if he had a reason for his hella sick shades, then Gamzee would have a reason for his claw nails.


	2. Fight

As predicted by the mad Strider smarts, school passed by in a mostly blur. Bro was in and out of the apartment when Dave was home. He still received horribly cliche lunches everyday. Some of them, he swore he could look up on Google images and get an exact copy. He’d have to repay Bro in some kind of shitty gift, now. Maybe he could find something from John’s shitty movie collection. Or better yet, Karkat’s. Ooh, there was a mountain of quality irony in Karkat’s romance films. Karkat would swear by them all, and argue valiantly that they were excellent pieces of literature. But that was the reason why that’s where Dave would probably be going.

John was frequently texting this elusive girlfriend of his and Dave resisted the urge to snatch John’s phone away. Egbert made it way too easy. Jade kind of drifted off, but she usually did that. Still, her and Dave had some cool conversations here and there in the class they had together.

Karkat gave up on completely restraining his rage in math and science and the teachers learned fairly quickly that it was useless to try and stop him once he got started. Others looked on with horror as Karkat rained insults upon Dave and John. A highlight was Karkat calling Dave’s ego larger than the gap in the Red Sea when Moses came around and parted that shit farther than the distance between John’s front teeth. 

Rose and Kanaya were the badass lesbians they were practically born to be, and Dave would only admit it when Rose was nowhere near by. If there was one good thing about having Gamzee thrust into their friend group, it was watching Rose get frustrated when her psychoanalysis resulted in no snap back like it did from Dave or anyone else. Gamzee’s docile-ness and uncaring nature was a perfect counter to Rose trying to start shit. Dave enjoyed it beyond real explanation. It also kept him out of Rose’s target range as she tried harder and harder to crack Gamzee. 

Having Gamzee in a class, was a bit different, though. Homeroom was always really short, so that wasn’t a big deal, but it was the painting class thing. Dave’s original thought that he was good at art was proven wrong. Gamzee was really fucking good at painting. Like probably in a museum good, or famous on the internet good. Published in some horror books shit. Dave could tell that other people were pretty disturbed by when he ended up getting done. Gamzee seemed to not notice, even when the teacher not-so-discreetly asked him if everything was alright. 

Even with all the dark, detailed, realistic shit that Gamzee ended up drawing and painting, Gamzee was all up for drawing shitty memes with Dave during some free time they had. A few of them might have gotten uploaded the SBaHJ website as bonus things. Dave definitely wouldn’t have been able to take Gamzee even remotely seriously if he was one of those stuck up prissy artist like the hipster guy with the purple streak in the class. Pissing that asshole off was one of the funniest things. Having someone willing to go all out with being annoyances was a blessing in disguise. A stoner clown disguise, but still a blessing nonetheless. Karkat just accepted that Gamzee and Dave were going to be messing with him as some kind of team and reluctantly dealt with it. 

Dave was almost surprised how well he got along with Gamzee. Gamzee seemed to catch himself when he was tapping or scratching tables and Dave was next to him. It took a second or so, but he stopped. Considering how out of it Gamzee was all the time, Dave would take it. Karkat seemed genuinely happy that Gamzee was making other friends, even if he suffered the most from it.

Then came the day Karkat wasn’t on the bus and texted him before the bus arrived at school. It was simple, and direct as all Karkat’s messages. But Dave was surprised to find himself concerned.

 

**Karkles:** HAVE YOU HEARD FROM GAMZEE?

**Karkles:** HE WAS SUPPOSED TO RIDE WITH ME AND KANKRI TO SCHOOL, BUT HE WASN’T THERE.

**Me:** nah dude haven’t heard a word from our favorite stoner clown

**Me:** something up?

**Karkles:** LET’S JUST SAY RADIO SILENCE FROM GAMZEE IS NEVER EXACTLY GOOD.

**Karkles:** IT COULD ALSO BE NOTHING BUT BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY, TRUST ME.

**Karkles:** YOU HAVE CLASSES WITH HIM, SO JUST KEEP AN EYE ON HIM.

**Karkles:** SHIT. JUST TRY NOT TO GET ON HIS NERVES? ESPECIALLY IF HE’S EVEN MORE ON EDGE. HE… IT’S HARD TO  EXPLAIN BUT JUST PLAY IT SAFE.

**Me:** uh sure my dude

 

Dave didn’t get it, but Karkat was usually pretty serious when it came to his friends. He guess he’d see what happened. Some part of him was worried. Cool kids didn’t worry though, but he’d make sure Gamzee was alright, though. He’d hate to lose the one person that would go around screwing with other people. Dave was still a little unprepared for what greeted him in homeroom.

Gamzee was fidgeting and shifting almost every second. As Dave sat, Gamzee glanced at him and then went back to staring down at his fingers. He was stretching them and curling them in front of him, shoulders pulled up near his ears. His hair seemed even more out of order than usual, and his usual relaxed pose was rigid. He was pointedly keeping his eyes on his fingers, and Dave glanced down. Most of his nails weren’t sharp any more. His face paint was still in place, if not a little sharper.

“Yo,” Dave greeted. Gamzee stared at him out of the corner of his eyes. It was almost malicious. “You good, dude?”

“Perfectly motherfucking fine,” Gamzee said lowly. Yeah, Dave thought, something was off. Gamzee’s voice was never consistent in tone like that. There was also a definite edge of malice in that sentence. 

Dave nodded slowly and turned to face the front of the room where the teacher had arrived and was putting his things down. Gamzee stayed rigid through the whole first period. No tapping, no shifting, and his fingers even stopped moving. It was the most still Dave had probably ever seen him. He decided that was what Karkat was talking about. 

“What happened to your claw-nails?” Dave asked when they were going to leave for their first classes of the day. Gamzee looked at him for a few seconds before answering. 

“Had the shits filed down,” Gamzee said. Dave could hear the tension in his voice once he got past the eerily even tone.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Dave said. “Why?”

“And why the fuck do you wanna know?” Gamzee asked slowly. His eyes narrowed harshly, contradicting the wide, toothy grin on his face. Dave raised an eyebrow over his shades. Gamzee snickered and grabbed his bag. He was out of the room before Dave could ask anything else.

You would have to be dumber than Egbert to not notice that something was up. Dave pulled out his phone as he went to his next class, opening the previous conversation with Karkat. He texted him quickly to tell him that he understood what Karkat had bothered him about that morning. 

Dave decided that knowing Gamzee for less than a month wasn’t enough for him to genuinely get worried about him. Cool kids didn’t care. 

Art class was even more...tense. Dave’s fight or flight instincts were kicking in every time he saw Gamzee shambling around. Even his fucking walk was different. Dave liked to think he had good instincts after years of strifing with bro, and every single one of them was electrified like socks on carpet. Gamzee having sharp things--even if it was just a pencil--was worse for his nerves. 

Almost a week went by like that. Gamzee being fidgety and eerily silent. Karkat was obviously trying to snap him out of it, or distract him with the usual nonsense, but it wasn’t working. It didn’t take long for the people out of the friend group to notice and start whispering. Dave heard plenty of it. He wondered if people assumed he was deaf, because they didn’t seem to care if he was around when they talked shit about Gamzee. They were all saying he was a druggie--not false--but that he was in a gang, and it got even worse from there. He kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t his business that Gamzee couldn’t control his withdrawal symptoms. 

Dave was really ready to ignore it, too. As he left his last class on one sunny Friday, his exit was blocked. Initially, he dismissed it as the head-up-their-ass jocks picking on some poor skinny nerd that tried to act tough. He was mistaken.

“Come on ya fucking stoner,” lead head-up-his-ass jock said. Dave nudged his way through the circle of people, ready to just move on without really paying attention to what was being said. “Can’t even defend your shitty ass? What a fucking joke.” Dave looked up then, and frowned. Gamzee got knocked against the lockers, the metal shaking when his weight hit them. “Acting tough and scary walking around when you can’t do shit. Now why don’t you apologize for bumping into me?”

Were they serious? What were they? Some shitty on purpose high school movie? Dave wondered if he was the mysterious one. Ha, of course he was. 

Gamzee had his head tilted down and his shoulders were pulled up to his ears. He was visibly trembling, hands clenched up. His legs were partially bent and he was breathing heavily, leaning back against the lockers. Dave thought he looked like he was about to cry, or collapse. If he did, Karkat would march up to the head-up-their-ass jocks in a crowded area and go all social justice on them. Said ball of anger was already gone, dismissed early because his brother had a thing he had to go to. 

Dave watched carefully. Karkat wasn’t going to be there, so he guessed it fell on his kickass self to defend the stoner clown. The jocks laughed as Gamzee slid lower against the lockers. Dave wondered what kind of person got off on beating up relatively harmless stoners. Clearly their kind.

Gamzee stayed quiet and Dave had to give him props for that. It took a lot to stay that quiet when such assholes were knocking you around like that. Plus what they wanted was a response. It was more effective not to do a thing. 

“What a fucking wimp,” the lead one scoffed again. He reached forward and roughly grabbed Gamzee’s shoulder. Gamzee barely even moved and the tension in his arms just increased. He was almost forced to look up. Dave could only see half his face, but his eyes were wide and his pupils didn’t even seem to exist. “You gonna do shit, clown freak? Gonna pull a juggling pin out your ass and beat us with it? Come on! Where’s the happy grin you had walking around like you owned the place?”

There was a beat of silence, and Dave was sure the jock was just going to drop Gamzee and walk away like he was any semblance of cool. Instead, Gamzee smiled. Wide, toothy, and unnerving on a whole new level to what he’d been like all week. His eyes didn’t even shift or crinkle, and Dave felt all his instincts go off like a firework. All his head was registering for a good few seconds was  _ threat threat threat _ .

Luckily the jocks didn’t have their heads so far up their ass that they didn’t notice. It was too late, though, Gamzee grabbed the shoulders of the guy holding onto him and headbutted him--hard, and Dave heard the smack. A gasp went through the crowd as they all rushed to pull out phones if they weren’t already out. 

The jock stumbled back and Gamzee pulled him back in, kneeing him in the gut and knocking him to the ground. Dave’s eyes were wide behind his shades as he watched it unfold. Gamzee was still grinning like a maniac as he dropped to his knees and pulled a fist back to start wailing on the guy’s face. The two lackey jocks grabbed him from behind and held him in a lock, pulling up back. Gamzee growled and lashed, getting a dull scratch in and a kick. Maybe that was why he kept his nails so sharp, and then filed them down. 

Gamzee shouted a loud curse, and if teachers weren’t on their way, they certainly were now. The lackeys loosened their hold ever so slightly, and it gave Gamzee wiggle room. Dave winced as Gamzee sunk his teeth into one of their forearms. He broke the skin and the two jolted back. Gamzee stumbled and spat something out. Holy shit, Dave thought, he got flesh. The lackey that got bit was cursing a storm and holding the forearm close to him. The other stared in horror. Gamzee was back to grinning, eyes wide with some kind of glaze over them. 

The lead guy was getting up, and knocked Gamzee to the ground roughly. Gamzee barely caught himself with his hands. The guy pulled him back up and punched him square in the nose. More blood. Dave was really sure he wasn’t going to get involved.

“Hold him still, show this shitty clown a lesson,” the lead said as Gamzee growled and thrashed. The lackey that wasn’t freaking out at the gash Gamzee bit into him snapped to action. He grabbed Gamzee’s arms firmly, steering clear of his mouth this time.

Gamzee struggled and kicked and tried to pull his arms free. The lead jock grinned and started punching him in the ribs like he was a punching bag. Gamzee kept trying to get himself free as he was beat, but it was useless, and he realized it. When the guy socked him in the jaw, cutting him with the shitty ring he had on, was when Dave stepped in.

He loved a good fight. There was nothing better than meeting someone that could keep up and fight back. Losing was honorable as long as you kicked some ass. But there was a point when a fight became just a plain beat down. There might be no such thing as a 100% fair fight, but a point existed where it just got ridiculous. This was that point. 

Dave dropped his bag and huffed. He walked the few feet up to the back of the lead jock. He wondered if he’d have to deal with them after doing this. Eh, he thought, screw it. He didn’t want to lose his making-fun-of-people buddy, and he hated fights that ended because of numbers. He tapped the guy on the shoulder. The dude turned around and smirked haughtily. Dave roundhouse kicked him in the throat. Guy hacked dryly and stumbled to the side. Dave put his foot back on the ground before cresent kicking the guy in the face. 

Gamzee stared at him and the guy holding him faltered. Dave wondered if they would learn not to give Gamzee room to move even a little. Gamzee yanked his right arm free and elbowed the guy behind him, striking him in the throat. The lead guy recovered quickly and tried to grab Dave by his arm. Dave whipped his arm back, pulling the guy with him, and bending the guy’s fingers. There was a definite crack and the lead jock shouted in pain. Gamzee was wrestling with the other guy, who was grabbing him by the hair and trying to push him away like he was some kind animal. Gamzee dug his dull nails into the guy’s arms until he let go. Dave should have been more aware of the guy he had right in front of him. A fist hit him right in the nose and Dave half wondered if that was all the guy knew how to punch when someone was in front of him. 

Dave let him go and stumbled back. He grabbed his nose, and checked his shades to make sure they were still in place and in one piece. Gamzee was getting shoved to the ground again, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the ground with a grumble. Dave glared at the lead head-up-his-ass jock, who held the hand the Dave probably broke a few fingers of like it was some kind of baby. 

There was the clack of a teacher’s high heels on the floor, and the crowd parted like Moses stopped by. One of the stuck up teachers, in a sharp pencil skirt and pump heels, strode into the crowd, scowling sharply at them all. Gamzee pushed himself up onto his knees and looked up.

“This is stopping now!” the teacher snapped. She looked at Dave’s bloody nose, and the injuries the jocks had. The one that had tried to hold down Gamzee a few seconds ago was coughing harshly. Another teacher, the gym one, marched into the middle and took his  _ treasured _ jocks away. The woman turned to Gamzee and Dave. “Come with me to the nurse, immediately.”

Gamzee got to his feet and started shambling after her. He grabbed his book bag that was sitting on the floor near where he was slammed into the lockers. Dave grabbed his own bag and followed. He kept a hand to his nose, face tilted forward. No matter what the nurse or whoever the hell else said about bloody noses, he rather not have blood and mucus going down this throat through his nose. 

People stared at him and Gamzee. Videos were still being taken, and some were probably being uploaded to social media already. Dave ignored them and kept his head up. He wasn’t ashamed. If he was fully paying attention, or had a sword, those asshats would be in unconscious heaps on the ground. Bro wouldn’t give him a break about losing focus, if anything, he’d be woken up for strifes in the middle of the night for it. He just hoped Bro didn’t decide to blame Gamzee. Poor clown freak wasn’t responsible, even if he seemed to enjoy taking a bite out of that shitty jock.

The old nurse looked so tired when she ushered Gamzee and Dave in. She went to Gamzee first, when Dave waved her off and grabbed a tissue box. Gamzee had small cuts and bruises showing up now. The nurse only had kiddy bandaids, and a bright pink flower one was placed on top of Gamzee’s nose, and another on his jaw. Dave had to get a few of his own, and made sure to choose the best. His nose eventually stopped bleeding and he put down the tissue box. 

Dave and Gamzee were to stay in the nurse’s office until their guardians came. There was visible fear on Gamzee’s face when they said that their parents would need to be called. Gamzee went from setting off all his nerves as a threat to some kind of defenseless puppy in seconds. Dave busied himself on his phone while they were forced to wait. Eventually, the teacher that dragged them there came back to drag them to the principal’s office.

Gamzee was a fidgeting mess as they walked down the hall. He held his arms close to the body and looked like he rather be anywhere else. His eyes were wide and scared. Dave nudged his arm and Gamzee flinched, staring at him half angrily. Dave gave him a silent thumbs up and a gentle punch on the upper arm. It seemed to work to calm him somewhat. Dave took a step in front of him, hoping it got the point across that Dave was willing to kick ass for this. Gamzee was silent about it, at least.

The trio of jocks, whose heads seemed to have vanished further up their asses, were sitting in the office. There were two lines of chairs facing each other in the waiting area. Parents were going to be called in, and then there’d be some heated discussion, and then the sports players would be deemed innocent and Gamzee and Dave would be stuck in detention for a while. Dave knew how it played out. He’d seen it happen with others, but never thought he’d be on this end of it. 

Dave led Gamzee to the seats opposite the jocks. The one Gamzee bit had a bandage around his arm, and the one that was relatively unharmed just had an ice pack. The one Dave broke the fingers of had a cast on. Their treatment was more professional, given by the trainer that worked in the athletic department. Dave knew that they’d get some kind of better treatment. The one year he did track--he kicked ass--he ended up in that office once. At least he and Gamzee weren’t any worse for wear. 

Gamzee sat down with a solid thump and Dave sat next to him. He pulled his phone and earbuds out. He sent a quick text to Bro, saying that the school would be calling him. Gamzee took his own phone out and texted someone with shaky fingers. The three across from them gave them dirty looks and tried to stubbornly ignore them. Dave wondered how long it would be before anything actually happened. He guessed at least half an hour, or more. Gamzee put his phone away. Dave really shouldn’t be caring, he told himself. Whatever Gamzee did was his own thing, he told himself. But nah, he somehow concluded. He kicked someone in the throat. It was becoming a sort of ride or die situation. As long as Gamzee was willing to go along with it, then Dave was cool with it being that way.

“Yo, dude,” Dave started. Gamzee looked over at him just out of the corner of his eyes. His makeup was smudged, Dave noted. “Wanna listen to some music? Got the sickest beats on here. All made by the one and only me. Laying out the rhymes like jam on the golden toast of the ill beat.”

“You talk a motherfucking lot,” Gamzee said, lowly. Dave shrugged and offered him one of the ear buds. It would be convenient for both of them, he figured if Gamzee wasn’t all twitchy for however long they had to wait. The principal and the coach came out of his office and they went quiet. The three ass-keteers were called in first. Gamzee waited until he heard the door click shut. “Why don’t you up an explain the shit that you pulled?”

“What d’ya mean?” Dave asked.

“I didn’t need your motherfucking help,  _ cool _ kid,” Gamzee said. He stressed ‘cool’ like it was some kind of disgusting term.

“Sure,” Dave nodded. “You were totally going to escape being their goddamn punching bag.” 

Gamzee glared at him and bared his teeth. Dave stayed looking him in the eyes, even if Gamzee wouldn’t be able to tell. He kept his hand up with the other earbud as he slid the other into his own ear.

“Why do you fucking care?” Gamzee hissed. 

“Because,” Dave said. “Who’s gonna piss off Karkles with me?”

Dave could feel Gamzee staring at the side of his head. He looked down at his phone, scrolling through his music to find something particularly good. It took a few more seconds before Gamzee took the earbud from his hand. His hands were still trembling a little. Dave guessed it was a withdrawal thing over nerves thing. He selected the sickest beats, and informed Gamzee of such, and only got a scoff. 

Like predicted, it took about half an hour. Bro showed up after the jock’s parents. Dave wished high school wouldn’t bring parents in like that. Bro was young, but he was a legal adult, and it just meant almost anything he said was going to be dismissed. Gamzee told the principal, when the pudgy man asked rudely where Gamzee’s parent was, that his dad would be there soon. Bro pulled Dave aside for a minute. He got a stern warning about losing focus, also as predicted, and Bro ruffled his hair for standing up for his friend--no matter how much Dave tried to give other reasons. The lead guy’s parents were outraged that his fingers were broken, and questioned Bro rudely about why Dave knew such things. 

“So he can defend himself against people like your son.” Was the simple answer. It silenced the woman and got the point across that Bro didn’t want to be screwed with. 

They moved into the smaller principal’s office, with Gamzee trying to explain that his father was really busy during the day. Bro seemed to be the only one fine with having to wait a little, while the other parents were all huffy about it. 

Dave thought Gamzee was tall. Dave thought his Bro was tall. He was not prepared for the fucking giant that is Gamzee’s father. Seven feet plus, easily, and broad. Yeah, Gamzee was tall, but he was skinny and didn’t take up all that much space. Gamzee’s dad seemed to be the opposite. Tall and with broad shoulders. He looked like some kind of body builder, except he had on some business suit and his hair was tied back in a large ponytail. He had some faint face paint on, less than what Gamzee had but similar. 

“Apologizes for being late,” Gamzee’s dad said. He had a deep voice that pretty much demanded being listened to. He adjusted the sleeves of his suit jacket. “Have I missed any discussion?”

“No, Mister Makara,” the principal said, sitting up a little straighter. “We were waiting for you to get started, since Gamzee here was the one starting it.”

“No he wasn’t,” Dave snapped, getting a swift smack on the back of his head from Bro. Bro said something in Japanese. Dave was pretty sure it was roughly shut up from the times Bro used it in the past.

“Gamzee would never harm anyone unprovoked,” his father said, frowning. 

“Then explain why my boy is missing a piece of his arm!” the mother of that jock shouted.

“Because he likely attacked my son,” Gamzee’s dad said, raising his voice a little.

“Now, now, please,” the principal said. He momentarily got the group to calm down enough. “Let’s just discuss this like other issues we have. No need to raise voices.”

Dave was proven right yet again. He should have put money on it. Even with Gamzee’s dad’s threatening look and attitude, it was a losing battle. Jocks were favored because high school politics, and since Dave broke a few of their fingers and they had a game soon or something. Bro didn’t really seem to care, as long as Dave defended himself. He said that if anything, the jocks not being able to somewhat defend themselves was the bad part. Dave wished he’d shut up sometimes. 

Still. Three weeks detention, everyday but the weekends. Dave didn’t really care, since he could work on his music. Gamzee seemed to be indifferent, but Dave wondered if he’d really be okay sticking around an hour after school every day. The jock kids were able to leave the meeting before them even, because broken fingers wanted to go to the hospital, and bandage wanted to get his arm checked out. Gamzee looked strangely satisfied when the guy gave him a glare. 

Eventually, the principal let them leave. The school was mostly empty and quiet as they walked out. Gamzee’s dad pulled out his phone and called someone. When they stepped outside, he walked away from their little group to talk to whoever it was. Gamzee shifted on his feet and Bro said he was going to get the car, and that Dave should comfort his clown friend. Dave rolled his eyes as Bro walked off. 

An expensive car pulled up in front of them almost just as Gamzee’s dad walked back over, putting his phone away. He nodded for Gamzee to follow as he walked to the car. Dave blinked in awe but otherwise didn’t change his expression. Gamzee rolled his shoulders and popped his neck. He looked at Dave.

“...Thank you,” Gamzee said, slow and stiff. “Even if I didn’t motherfucking want it.”

Dave snored. “Yeah man, no prob,” Dave said. Gamzee stared at him a second longer before going over to the expensive car and climbing in. The car peeled off almost immediately.

Bro pulled their far shittier car out front and Dave hopped him before he could play some tune on the horn.

“So a literal clown,” Bro started.

“Yup,” Dave nodded. “Stoner, too.”

Bro nodded and started driving their car away from the front of the school. He turned up the music on the car stereo, filling the car with some of the stuff he mixed for his DJ gigs.


	3. Detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally wrote six thousand words for this. Oops? heheh

With the shit that went down before Dave got home, he forgot that the weekend was coming up. Bro made sure to remind him briefly that he was going to be out of town for the weekend. He didn’t make an effort to look at the fridge, and thus didn’t tell Dave that he should be ready to get food at some point. Dave didn’t check until Bro was long gone, either. His dinner was doritos and apple juice while he tried to get into mixing early. He had a few sets of songs he wanted finished in time for the next SBaHJ update. He wanted to post the update and the demos at the same time so hype from SBaHJ might drip over to his music. It might have been a little underhanded, but it was hard to get attention for something when there was no reason for them to give attention to it. 

Dave got minimum sleep that night, but that was just another plus of the sick trademark Strider shades. No one would know as long as he didn’t snore in public. He didn’t know if he snored, actually, he thought as his eyelids drooped heavily. He save the document he was working on quickly. Bro never commented if he did snore, and he never heard Bro snoring. It was just one of those thoughts that crossed his mind while he’s not fully conscious.

Eventually, he passed out at his computer, probably sitting back against his pillows with his laptop glowing at him. He was happy he kept his music laptop plugged in at all times so it wouldn’t die before he woke up. When he did wake up, the sun was already up and he could hear cars and people through his window that he left open. 

Dave got himself a haphazard breakfast before hunkering down again and getting through a few more songs. He sometimes worried a bit that he was dooming himself to life of being a hermit. He got a few messages from friends throughout the day. Rose bothered him about eating properly, especially when bro was out of town. Karkat yelled at him about some movie he watched, and Jade checked in on him. John gushed about traveling out of town to see his mystical girlfriend. 

By almost ten on Saturday night, the music was as good as he could get it without working on it forever, and he posted it with the next update of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. He ate something quick, sending a picture to Rose to prove it, and then promptly passed out. 

Sunday seemed a lot longer than Saturday, probably because Dave was awake at normal hours. He tried to keep a semi-decent schedule that day. Breakfast was consumed, TV shows were binged, and he made sure to eat an actual meal for lunch and dinner. Bro came back really late, when Dave was half asleep watching  _ Mean Girls _ for the third time that day. Bro grabbed the remote from him and turned it off. It was a silent order for Dave to get his ass back in bed. Dave did get up, after lying there stubbornly for a few minutes. He took a quick shower and then went to bed. Bro had vanished somewhere off in his room and Dave decided he didn’t want to know.

Monday was another rush of Dave scrambling to get his shit together. He had to make himself breakfast and lunch, since Bro had gone out for one reason or another. His hair was haphazardly styled and he just threw his notebooks in his bag, half zipping it shut. He skipped entire flights of stairs on his way down, and he leaped over a bike rack or two on his way to the bus stop. He was still eating the piece of toast as he went, and a few people gave him dirty looks as he ran past. Probably thinking rebellious youth. He even made it to the bus stop before it got there, and Dave wondered if he should time himself. 

Karkat noticed that he was slightly out of breath almost immediately. Curse the crab and his weird noticing skills. Dave was too tired for his usual quality tier insults. Karkat waited for him to sit down before bothering him.

“You really need to stop fucking with your sleep pattern,” Karkat said, disappoint look on his face. He got that from Kanaya, Dave thought.

“What sleep pattern?” Dave asked, looking around. Karkat scoffed. “I don’t see any sleep patterns here. Just a bunch of high school students struggling through their shitty lives where the disher out of punishment is biased as hell. Raining down them punishments on the poor like my fine self.”

“Oh shit,” Karkat said. He looked genuinely worried. “That about the fight you and Gamzee got into with the out-of movie jocks?”

“Yeah?” Dave said, raising an eyebrow over his shades. “What’s with the look?”

“I’m fucking worried about Gamzee,” Karkat grumbled. “He doesn’t do well with that kind of shit.” 

“He seemed pretty alright to me,” Dave shrugged. “Chomped on one of them like they were some kind chocolate bar.”

“...Really?” Karkat asked. Dave nodded. Karkat looked off to the side and frowned. “What happened after that?”

“I kicked a dude in the throat, and broke some fingers. Got sent to the office and we got detention for a few weeks,” Dave explained. Karkat sighed.

“Those asshats deserve worse,” Karkat growled lowly, going back to what he was doing before Dave got on.

Huh. Dave thinks that was the first time he ever saw Karkat genuinely want someone to suffer. Karkat said a lot of things, sure, but half the time he was just threatening. After a while, you realize that he wasn’t actually going to do anything. Karkat was very serious though, and if he was able, Dave was sure he’d kick the asses of the jocks himself. He was real protective of Gamzee, then. 

Dave chose not to mention it as the bus went on and they got to school.

Gamzee was more or less the same. Before they got to class, Karkat pulled him away somewhere. When he sat next to Dave for the homeroom, he was more quiet and seemed less fidgety. Dave didn’t mention that, either. It just seemed better to stay out of whatever relationship Karkat and Gamzee had going on. Dave sent Jade the songs that he had worked on during a break, and she promised to listen to them when she had time but hoped he hadn’t stayed up all weekend doing it. He didn’t tell her. For reasons Dave didn’t put together like he should have, Gamzee talked to him a little more. In hindsight, it was barely a few sentences compared to how much Dave could talk, but it was still more than he talked to anyone else.

The jocks avoided Gamzee and Dave. Gamzee giggled with a creepy grin when he saw the guy he took a bit out of. He looked even more satisfied seeing the guy with a proper bandage. People gave him even more disturbed looks. Dave didn’t doubt that everyone had seen the videos, or heard dramatic retellings. He bet Gamzee was described as some cannibal or bloodthirsty monster. Considering the stuff that happened, he was kind of surprised that he wasn’t part of the rumors. 

A day full of people staring and Dave neglecting to answer any questions about how much he slept that weekend. It went by in a blur, really. A lot of days did, though.

Dave was very ready to go home, bullshit his homework, and then work on his songs. Then he remembered he had detention, for three weeks. Three fucking weeks. He walked into the detention room a minute before he had to be there.

Gamzee was sitting in there already, hunched over at a table near the back of the room. He looked over as Dave walked in and subtly moved his things closer to him to make space for Dave. Dave glanced over at the teacher at the desk. It was one of the teachers that was just a stickler and was probably counting down days until retirement. She stood when Dave walked in, and marked his name down. He went over and sat next to Gamzee. The other had a sketchbook in front of him, mostly hidden from the teacher with his bag. Gamzee had a little set of pencils next to him, and two erasers.

Dave blatantly looked over, and Gamzee moved his arm out of the way to Dave could actually see. More angular figures with creepy grins and oozing skin. Dave put his bag on the desk and pulled his laptop and lyric notebook out of his bag. 

The teacher blabbed about rules. No talking, no getting up, no leaving, no music, no YouTube, and no fun in general. She didn’t actually mention the fun, but that’s what Dave heard it as. She said that she would be in and out of the room. Karkat told Dave earlier that when she left she was just gone, and there was no need to really worry until ten minutes before getting dismissed. Gamzee didn’t even seem to be paying attention, fixing the arm of one of the figures. Dave opened his notebook and started working on one of the verses that had been giving him trouble. 

After a few minutes, the teacher gave them another warning before leaving. The people near the front had their noses in their books. It was probably one of their first detentions and were really that scared of goofing off. Others had no such fear and were talking and laughing. Dave kept his head down and pulled out his laptop. Gamzee continued sketching. 

Dave opened his mixing program and pulled up the song he nearly got done but had to sacrifice time for sleep. Who needed sleep. Sleep was for the weak, and Dave was a kickass coolkid. If he didn’t have to sleep, then he’d be mixing even more of the sickest beats ever to grace poor, uncultured ears. Dave plugged his earbuds in and started working, drumming his fingers on the sides of his laptop’s screen as he waited for it to load.

As Dave got into setting up the different layers, time kind of blurred again. He didn’t know when Gamzee started watching him mess with the music. He did notice when Gamzee nudged his lyric notebook so he could read it. Dave smacked his hand away and paused the music.

“The fuck that for?” Gamzee hissed. Other people were talking, but it was still better to make as little noise as possible. 

“Did I say you could look at my shit?” Dave asked, pointedly going back to adjusting the music.

“You looked at my book, it’s called being fair, motherfucker,” Gamzee said, leaning closer to him. Dave frowned and glared at him. Gamzee stared at him for a few seconds before scoffing and moving back.

“Fine,” Dave huffed. Gamzee genuinely looked surprised. “But don’t talk about it. It’s drafts and that kind of thing. Not final.”

“No shit. But you know I was motherfucking messin’ with you, right?”

“You reading it or not?” 

Gamzee leaned back over and flipped through a few pages of the notebook. Dammit. Dave knew all his lyrics were as equally as kickass as he was. He shouldn’t be that nervous about someone like the stoner clown reading it. Dave also knew that Gamzee probably wouldn’t be able to discern between the ironic shit and the sort of real shit. 

Dave kept the music low so he could hear if Gamzee said anything else. Gamzee didn’t really say anything, though, just made a few noises before going back to what he was doing. Dave felt the tension that had unwillingly built up in his shoulders go away. He really hadn’t cared about it, he told himself. It would have been nice to hear what people thought about it. Karkles, John, and the others never got it, and Bro was a no-go for feedback. 

The teacher walked in suddenly, saying she forgot something, right after Gamzee leaned back and the ones that were screwing off ran back to their seats. She scolded them briefly then left.  She didn’t care. 

“Do you actually write all that?” Gamzee asked when the teacher left again and the people went back to talking. 

“Yeah,” Dave said, going back to the music on his laptop.

“It doesn’t all motherfucking suck, so congratulations,” Gamzee said, roughly erasing something in his sketchbook.

“Oh, my deepest thanks, all great clown man,” Dave started, preparing to go on his usual bullshit. “I have been blessed with the greatest praise from the fucking clown god.”

Gamzee stared at him for a few seconds again before just going back to his sketching. Dave should have expected that. Gamzee might have a relatively short fuse sober, but he didn’t anger easily like Karkat. He seemed used to the clown jabs, too. 

They were quiet for the rest of the time. Gamzee was engrossed in whatever he was drawing now, and Dave was finalizing some of the layers of the song. Almost exactly ten minutes before they’d be let go, the teacher showed back up and the ones that were talking quickly shut up.

Finally, they were set free. Like a wild herd of animals on those fucking plains of the Savanna. The teacher almost seemed happier to go home then some of the students.

Gamzee and Dave both packed their stuff up quickly and ended up walking out together. Those first-timers in detention scattered like those rats in the shitty Ratatouille movie. No, Dave took that back, Ratatouille was a fucking ironic gold mine. Better yet, it seemed everyone that was in detention purposefully gave them a three foot bubble around them. Dave had never been… feared before. It was odd but actually pretty cool not to have people bumping into him all the time.

Outside, another expensive car was pulled up in front of the school, bracketed by soccer-mom minivans and the dumb sport cars that mark a mid-life crisis. A man in a dress shirt and pants stood next to said expensive car, looking down at his phone.

“That you?” Dave asked, nodding to the car. Gamzee nodded and shrugged. “Never thought you’d be a rich boy. Rolling in that sweet fucking dough. Making it rain that sweet money. No reservoir needed, just keeping it raining through sheer will.”

“Done?” Gamzee grumbled.

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “Catch ya later, clown fucker.”

“...Where’s your motherfucking guardian?” Gamzee hissed, glancing around. “Your shit car ain’t here.”

“Woah, woah, don’t insult the Strider-mobile,” Dave scoffed, acting offended. “The sickest of beats are played in the car. Memories of only the coolest quality have been made on those old seats--”

“Do you have a fucking ride or not?” Gamzee interrupted. Dave stopped and looked at him. “Karbro says you live real motherfucking far away. My dad don’t give a shit if we drop you off as long as you don’t… fucking puke on the seats or any variant of that shit.”

“I get the privilege of riding in your sick ass clown car?” Dave asked, covering up any sort of thankfulness that might have been there with said aforementioned usual bullshit. He didn’t want to walk home. Texas heat fucking sucked and he lived closer to the city, so there was a shit ton of people. “I gladly accept, oh great clown lord. May praise rain upon you from whatever juggalo gods you worship.”

“Yeah, yeah, make your fucking jokes… shade fucker,” Gamzee scoffed, walking down the front steps towards the car. The other people had left or were about to.

“That the best you got? Elusiveness of the Strider too hard for you to compute in that druggie brain of yours? Step up your game, clown fucker.”

Gamzee ignored him. The man leaning on the car stepped off and opened the back seat for Gamzee and Dave. Gamzee climbed in without acknowledging him and Dave climbed in after him. The man gave him a semi-confused look.

The seats were a lot fucking better than his shit car and it didn’t smell like absolute crap. The insides were clean, free of take out bags and boxes and various other trash. No box of cassette tapes Bro demanded on keeping in between the front seats, no mess of CDs nearly falling out of the glove box or the pockets on the back of the front seats. No weird puppets jammed under seats or in the trunk. Clean windows, clean dashboard, and Dave could swear the wheel was polished. 

The guy that opened the door for them walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat. He turned the key and the engine fucking  _ purred _ . No sputter, no odd noises Bro had to check. Yeah. Dave was kind of jealous. 

“We’re dropping him off. Address,” Gamzee said gruffly, smacking Dave in the arm. Dave snapped out of his mini trance and told the driver his address. The man nodded pulled off.

Air conditioning in the car actually worked. Real cool air came out of the vents and Dave savored it. Quiet music was playing through the speakers and the sound system was something he wanted to experience. It looking fucking sick, and nice cars always had really good speakers.

The drive was pretty quick. He guessed no one wanted to risk damaging the obviously expensive car and dealing with paying whatever insurance made them. Dave snorted to himself. Maybe Gamzee just repelled people. Like bug spray or something, but people spray. Was it weird Dave enjoyed it? Less people trying to act like they were worthy of his time. Gamzee glanced at him from where he was examining his nails when Dave snorted. He didn’t question it, though.

They pulled up to Dave’s apartment building. Dave pushed the door open and stepped out. Gamzee was climbing out after him before he could stop the other.

“Aw, gonna escort me to the door? Try much harder and you’re gonna make me fall for you like a fucking damsel in distress,” Dave said, putting a hand on his chest. Gamzee kicked the back of his knees before he stood up.

“It’s called being motherfucking polite,” Gamzee snapped. “Move.” 

“Now that isn’t polite.”

Dave walked up the short staircase to the front doors, Gamzee following after him. A few of the people he’d seen around glanced at Gamzee with confusion or disgust. Dave wasn’t really paying attention, but it was definitely a negative look. He went on autopilot for the stairs, taking them three at a time. 

“Why the fuck do you take the stairs?” Gamzee asked as he climbed up after him.

“Elevator takes too long, plus people always hate the scrappy high school kid breathing their precious air in or whatever,” Dave shrugged. “Getting tired?”

“Fuck off.”

Dave snorted again as he kept going. He lived pretty high up, but not impossibly. He wasn’t winded when they reached his floor. Gamzee was a little, but he was alright. More alright than Dave thought. It had become some kind of initiation for Dave’s nearly friends. Karkat gave up and found the elevator on the third floor. John made it to the eighth before tapping out. Jade made it all the way. Rose and Kanaya refused to mess up their makeup on their own turns through the Strider gauntlet.

Gamzee looked a little smug that he managed to do it. Dave didn’t acknowledge it as he walked into the hall. Dave pat his pockets before realizing he forgot his keys that morning. Fucking fantastic. When he reached his door, he knocked on it hard and repetitive. Bro would probably be pissed at him for not just going through the windows. Gamzee would probably be more weirded out by Dave scaling his apartment building, though. 

Bro eventually came marching to the door. He answered it expressionlessly, but slammed the door open with enough force that Dave got the hint. 

“Sorry, forgot keys,” Dave said quickly. “Hitched a ride with clownfucker.”

Dave heard Gamzee’s low growl behind him. Bro nodded slowly and went back into the house. Yeah, there’d be a strife later. Probably a brutal one he’d need to ice most of the next day. Hopefully no broken fingers and or ribs. Hopefully. Bro had some weird thing about Dave being able to fend for himself completely and utterly, even aliens descended or meteors started blowing up the goddamn city. 

Gamzee peered into the apartment as Dave walked through the door. When Dave turned back around to face him, Gamzee had a small smirk on his face. It seemed exaggerated by the clown face he still had painted on.

“Seeya, clownfucker,” Dave said, giving him a mock salute.

“Mm, right… puppetfucker,” Gamzee said, grinning widely.

Dave’s eyes widened slightly behind his shades and glanced over his shoulder. Yup. Bro had to have put those there on purpose. His freaky puppets were now on the floor near where they dumped their shoes. Dave glared at Gamzee, still grinning like he won the fucking war, and slammed the door shut in his face. 

In the kitchen, post homework and pre nightly doritos, Dave found a note on the counter. “ _ Roof. Now _ ,” written in Bro’s signature handwriting. He ran his finger over the black ink and it even smudged a little. Bro and his fucking flash stepping. Dave grabbed his sword and went out the fire escape to head up to the roof. 

X X X X X

Dave was stumbling into school the next day with all kinds of injuries. His side was badly bruised to start with, and if he didn’t know better he’d say it was broken. But, he did know better and thus didn’t do anything about it. Colorful band-aids--the ones with kid designs because Bro refused to buy anything else--covered his arms and legs and some on his cheeks. Dave told himself that he didn’t care if people judged his adhesive bandage choice, but the less eccentric ones were still saved for his face.

The universe decided to be a fucking asshole that day, and so it was way too hot for him to be wearing long sleeves. Too hot for his fucking jeans and that should be illegal. Even Bro was showing signs of the abnormal Texan heat affecting him. Dave just had to sacrifice his cool ass look in exchange for not suffocating from said Texan heat.

T-shirt and shorts it was, Dave reluctantly decided. Loose shirt with some dumb text on the front, one he usually slept in, and baggy shorts because he didn’t own any other pairs. He wished the training with Bro showed up elsewhere than the array of band-aids now covering him. Yeah, he had some muscle in his arms and legs, but he still looked like the scrawny kid he was when his legs and arms weren’t hidden. Being as freakishly pale as he was didn’t help that look either. His muscles didn’t bulk up like John’s or ninety percent of the other guys in the school. 

He was trained for speed and endurance, not brute strength. He never really ate decent food either, aside from the neat and perfect lunches Bro made for him, and those were fueled by spite from years ago when Dave whined that he never made Dave lunches. 

Cool kids didn’t get insecure, he told himself, shoving his stuff in his bag. That evil tinge of jealousy for people that could put on muscle in the way other people seemed to find attractive. Bro shoved his lunch in his hands as he went for the door. He grabbed it haphazardly and tried not to drop it as he slid down the railings of the stairs. He wasn’t used to wearing such baggy clothes, though, and part of it got stuck on the railing and he almost hit the concrete of the stairwell. 

Dave realized he’d have to steal some of the sunscreen that Karkat’s dad made the anger ball carry. It was way too sunny for his skin to survive and not look like a tomato at the end of the day. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait that long at the stop for the bus to show up. 

“Holy shit,” Karkat said when Dave sat across the aisle from him in their usual seats. “I can see your legs. I am blinded by your fucking paleness. You reflect the fucking sun like snow on the olympic mountains.”

“Sunscreen?” Dave asked, ignoring his commentary. 

Karkat dug in his bag and pulled out the ungodly strong substance. His dad was over protective, to the extreme. Karkat never got sunburn as long as Dave knew him, but he still carried SPF 100 because his dad wouldn’t let him leave unprepared. 

Dave lathered it on heavily, everywhere he thought the sun would hit. He put some on his hair-part to be sure. Neck, ears, under the shades, everywhere. He wasn’t risking going tomato-skin with some of the people they went to school with. It just wasn’t safe. He did multiple coats, and when they got to the school, he was just finishing his last layer on his face. He threw the bottle back at Karkat and rushed off the bus before Karkat could snap at him. His sides still ached and the discolored bruises all over his arms and legs didn’t exactly feel good either. 

He resisted the urge to run to homeroom early so people wouldn’t stare for reasons other than his connection with Gamzee. He could have gotten there in seconds, probably, if he did enough wall running off the lockers to avoid those assholes that stopped in the middle of the halls. That would draw a lot more attention to him.

At least everyone else was wearing things to deal with the heat. Even the biggest wannabes sacrificed their overly expensive jeans for shorts--still worn too low on their hips for whatever reason they thought was cool. Dave wouldn’t have stood out if it weren’t for the arrangement of band-aids and bruises. For Texas, a lot of them were pale. Not  _ as _ pale, but still up there on that paleness spectrum.

In homeroom, Gamzee glanced over at Dave’s band-aids a few too many times to be accidental. He didn’t ask though, and Dave didn’t bother explaining anything if he wasn’t actually going to question it. 

John had no such reserves, but he also knew enough about Bro to get an idea of where they were from when Dave said it was the older Strider. Karkat did, too. Jade fussed over him a little, and said he should actually go to the doctor or nurse for his ribs. Rose didn’t comment, really, but she looked concerned. She probably noticed the faint difference in skin color for the scars on his arms and legs--she was one of pale as hell skin, herself. Kanaya agreed with Jade that he should see a proper doctor, or let her look at it. He allowed Kanaya to prod him a bit, and she concluded that his ribs weren’t broken which he already knew. 

Gamzee actually asked when they were working on some exercise in painting class.

“What’s with all the motherfucking band-aids?” Gamzee asked. “You fall out a window?”

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” Dave shrugged, wincing as he reached over the table to grab a different pencil. 

“It’s being fucking polite,” Gamzee snapped.

“You say that a lot, ya know,” Dave interrupted. “Like you were trained to be this perfect little son to sit at meetings while your scary fucking dad shakes hands and makes deals worth more than my Bro’s fucking katanas.” 

“Katana?” Gamzee grumbled, but looked down to his own paper.

“You asked about the band-aids,” Dave said casually. Fuck. Was that oversharing? He didn’t fucking know it was a shit day. He was still really out of it from the strife with Bro.

Gamzee didn’t move for a minute. He was doing that eerily still thing, but snapped back into motion when the teacher started talking about the next step. Dave realized he probably shouldn’t have said that. When the teacher went quiet to let them work again, he nudged Gamzee.

“And don’t think about band-aid shit too much,” Dave said. “It’s nothing out of the norm.”

Gamzee hummed noncommittally. Dave didn’t know what that meant. He watched Gamzee discreetly through his shades. Gamzee’s face was blank which was weird from the vaguely pissed expression he’d had since he went sober. Dave wondered if he’d ever get high again, or if his dad found out and cut his money off. Maybe it was a rich kid thing.

The remainder of the day came and went. Gamzee was in the detention room already, like yesterday, and was drawing. Dave sat down next to him--he actually showed up before the last minute this time. He glanced over at Gamzee’s book again, and it was the same stuff. The teacher repeated the shit she said last time, for the few new people there. It was only one or two, and they were sitting at the other table in the back like they were trying to be tough. Teacher left fifteen minutes into detention.

Dave glanced over at the other kids in the back row. Yeah. He knew their type. Somewhere between jock and nobody, attempting to carve a place from the social norm but just following it even closer. 

“The fuck you staring at?” one of them snapped. 

“Sorry, is my looking in your general direction offending you?” Dave asked. He didn’t get why he was just in a confrontational mood today. Probably the heat. He’d put it down in that metaphorical journal of bullshit behavior that Rose would pick out and psychoanalyze.

“Yeah it is, skinny fuck,” the first continued, scowling. Gamzee made a grumbling noise next to Dave and he glanced over. Dave turned back to the others.

“You disturbed the clown,” Dave said. Gamzee sat up and Dave felt him glaring at him. The two across from them looked genuinely scared when they realized who was sitting next to Dave. He held his hands up and wiggled his fingers menacingly. “May the clown lord have mercy on your soul.”

“Kneel, motherfuckers,” Gamzee said, grin audible in his voice. 

Hell yeah, Dave thought, back on their bullshit as a fucking team. Dave smirked and wiggled his fingers, making  _ ooh _ -ing noises. The two backed down faster than Dave thought they could. They busied themselves with whatever they were doing.

Dave snickered to himself as he pulled out his laptop and notebook again. Gamzee slumped over in his chair, grinning still and back to drawing. They were quiet for the rest of detention, and engrossed in their own things. Gamzee offered Dave a ride home again, and who was Dave to deny an air conditioned car ride instead of the hellish heat. Dave insisted on going through the music selection they had in the car if he was going to ride in it every afternoon for a while. 

A lot of it was classical. Gamzee said his dad had nasty road rage and the shit calmed him down when he was driving. Some indie bands with dark messages and meanings in their songs and soundtracks from movies, Gamzee’s brother’s stuff, he said. Then, finally, a mix of the songs you hear on repeat on the radio, rock, metal, rap, and really obscure things Dave didn’t even recognize the genre of. That was Gamzee’s. Clown had an odd range of taste. He selected the CDs he thought worthy, even outside of his personal taste. Good music was good music regardless of what the genre was. 

When they reached the apartment building, Dave said he’d be bringing some of his mixes and CDs just to prove that he had better taste. Gamzee just scoffed and rolled his eyes as he went to climb out of the car to walk Dave up to apartment again. Dave asked him why he was so insistent on it when they were climbing the stairs. Gamzee repeated that it was manners. For someone who cursed more than Gordon Ramsay stubbing his toe, he seemed set on being some kind of fucking gentleman. 

Dave stayed up late finishing some of his tracks so Gamzee could get a real CD instead of just a few tracks. It was a dumb idea, especially after Bro said he’d be back late. Late meant late the next morning in Strider time. No one woke him up, but Dave trusted himself. It was hot again so he forced himself to deal with the short and t-shirt combo. Bro made him a cold lunch and it was in the fridge already. As Dave got ready to go out the door, run down the stairs, and then the street to get the bus, he got a text from Karkat. 

  


**Karkles:** YOU MISSED THE BUS SHITHEAD

  


What. No.

   


**Me:** are you fucking kidding

**Karkles:** I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT I AM NOT. THERE GOES YOUR STOP, VANISHING OVER THE HORIZON.

**Me:** fuck shit, do you know who can give me a ride

**Me:** i’m not walking in this fucking heat.

**Karkles** : LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I AM BEING QUITE MERCIFUL. BUT YOU OWE ME FOOD.

**Karkles:** GAMZEE RIDES WITH HIS BROTHER TO SCHOOL, HERE’S THE CLOWN’S NUMBER: XXX-XXXX

**Me:** clown mobile it is, thanks

**Karkles:** ALSO WARNING THAT GAMZEE’S BROTHER? TWICE AS CREEPY BUT A DECENT GUY AT LEAST.

   


Dave put in the number as a new contact and jumped straight to calling. He didn’t know if Gamzee was an avid texter, considering he rarely saw him on his phone. Dave went down the stairs slower than normal so he didn’t fumble his phone. 

“ _ Whatever you’re fucking selling I don’t want it _ ,” Gamzee’s voice greeted him when he picked up.

“Wow, denying a Strider? Even when I was ready to bless you with my great presence on this hot as balls morning?” Dave asked, smirking to himself.

“ _ Dave? How’d you get my number? _ ” Gamzee snapped. His voice seemed gruffer than usual, probably the morning. 

“Local crab,” Dave said. “Listen, Bro was out this morning so I didn’t wake up on time and I need a ride. Said crab also told me you ride with your brother in the mornings. Give me a ride?”

Gamzee said something Dave couldn’t hear, probably to someone next to him. It didn’t sound like a voice responded, but Dave didn’t know.

“ _ Fine. We’re gonna be near your apartment soon, see ya _ ,” Gamzee said.

“Thanks, clownfucker.”

Dave hung up before Gamzee could get another word in edgewise. He waited outside the apartment building, tapping his shoes on the ground and fidgeting. Was it weird asking Gamzee for a ride? Maybe, but Gamzee was already giving him rides home so maybe not completely out of the ordinary. 

Another expensive car pulled up. A few people stopped and stared, but others just gave it shocked glances and moved on. The window opened and Gamzee peeked his head out, gesturing for Dave to hurry up. Dave grabbed his bag from where he put it down on the ground and rushed over. He pulled the backseat door open and climbed in.

The car was in the same if not somehow better condition as the other. The seats had vertical purple stripes near the doors on the back seat. There was more purple accents throughout the interior. Subtle but there. 

“Puppetfucker,” Gamzee said, looking over his shoulder from his place in the passenger seat. His brother looked back in the mirror and smiled at Dave as greeting before pulling the car away from the curb. 

What was with the Makaras and their face paint? His brother had a different design, simpler, but it was contrasted by the--were those fucking stitches keeping his mouth shut? Dave was staring through the mirror, he knew he was. How could he help it when Gamzee’s brother looked like a skeleton. Dude seemed to know, too, if the ribcage t-shirt was anything. Quiet music was playing through the speakers. 

“Kurloz, this is Dave Strider,” Gamzee introduced quickly. Kurloz nodded and waved over his shoulder. “Strider, Kurloz. He’s my older brother.”

“Dude is your mouth stitched shut?” Dave asked. Gamzee stared at him like he was an idiot. He probably was in this case. Kurloz just smiled despite the stitches stretching and nodded. Dave gathered himself and tried to act like everything was cool. “What’s up with that?”

“Took a vow of silence for his girlfriend,” Gamzee explained when Kurloz jabbed him in the side. “He takes it real motherfucking serious.”

“Oh,” Dave said, nodding. He did not expect that. It made sort of sense, but it was still weird. “Cool. You go to our school?”

Kurloz nodded but didn’t elaborate. How did he miss a skeleton walking around the halls? Gamzee didn’t comment on it either, leg bouncing and fingers drumming on his thigh. Dave nodded back slowly and settled into the seat. He felt like he was missing something,

Kurloz drove effortlessly to the school and pulled into one of the parking spots. Gamzee threw the door open and climbed out and Dave followed his example with less force. They walked toward the main building as a little group. Kurloz was taller than Gamzee, but not as tall as their dad Dave guessed. Kurloz was “saying” things to Gamzee. He guessed it was sign language, whatever variation people used in Texas. Gamzee was signing back just as quick. Eventually Kurloz ran off into the school when a girl dressed in green waved frantically at him. 

“You talking shit about me?” Dave asked.

“Like I’d waste my motherfucking energy on you,” Gamzee scoffed, jamming his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

“Yeah, you were talking shit,” Dave sighed sagely. “Using your hidden clown languages to trash talk all those who betray you.”

Gamzee rolled his eyes and walked ahead of him with his longer legs. Dave wasn’t used to having to take extra steps to keep up. It was usually the other way around. Curse these Makaras and their weird face paint and long legs. 


	4. Two Daves

Dave could count on his hands the amount of times that Bro willingly took Dave trick-or-treating when he was a kid. Even then, it wasn’t trick-or-treating in the way that most kids did--the parent just being a guardian as the kid did whatever they wanted. Bro made a fucking map with Dave to maximise candy intake. Dave started to think when he started middle school and Bro stopped, that the trick-or-treating was more so for Bro than him. Bro just wanted an excuse to go around and get free candy. Dave was never really into it as a kid, and still wasn’t into it in highschool. 

His friends, however, took it beyond seriously. Halloween was their time, they said. John pulled out the “scary” pranks, and Jade told scary stories she heard on her travels. Rose and Kanaya broke out the more overt gothic clothes, and Kanaya even seemed to have vampire fangs in during the days just before the spookiest of days. Karkat hated being scared and John took full advantage. It was funny watching Karkat flip his shit every time anyone managed to scare him. 

Dave stayed out of it, mostly, just rolling with whatever Rose decided to dress him up as for the dumb costume day his school did. Last year, he was pulled into some red-riding hood thing with Rose and Kanaya. He demanded being red-riding hood, and rocked the fucking skirt and tights Kanaya originally made for Rose. Other times, it was just an odd costume Rose pulled together for him even if it was a lazy one. He wouldn’t dress up otherwise. 

Good part was Bro was out of the house, doing a bunch of DJ gigs. Dave would have the apartment to himself for almost two weeks, and then even longer during Christmas and New Years. 

While Gamzee was driving Dave home one of the days after detention, Dave told them to stop at the grocery store and drop him there. Dave would really never get tired of the nice cars Gamzee got to drive around in. He always liked cars, but never got to indulge.

“Why the fuck you need to buy food?” Gamzee asked. The driver gave a little huff at his language. “Your guardian not feeding you or some shit?” 

“He’s busy for a while with gigs and shit,” Dave said, shrugging. “Gonna brave the wilderness of my shitty apartment all on my own and need supplies.”

Gamzee hummed noncommittally and went back to what he was doing on his phone--little stylus swiping across the screen. Dave obnoxiously leaned over the empty backseat space between them to look at his phone. The clown was always on that thing in the car. Gamzee didn’t even notice until Dave almost headbutted him. Dave got a look, though. Some drawing app and Gamzee was haphazardly coloring a sketch. Gamzee jolted and shoved Dave back. Dave struggled against him and made grabby hands for Gamzee’s phone. Gamzee frowned and tried to block him single handedly. Oh. Now it was a fucking challenge.

Dave stopped for a second then dove under Gamzee’s arm and jammed his elbow into Gamzee’s ribs. It got Gamzee to hack and fumble. He snatched Gamzee’s phone and casually stayed half lying on Gamzee’s lap as he looked at the phone. His legs were awkwardly bent on his own half of the seat. 

The app was zoomed in on part of the sketch, looked like a nose or something and Gamzee was working on the angle or something. Just as Dave was about to zoom out to see what it was as a whole, Gamzee started cussing him out and brought his arms down to grab the phone back.

“Give it back, puppetfucker,” Gamzee said cooly.

“Let me see what it is and I will,” Dave huffed as he tried to wiggle free. His legs and hips were half caught in the seatbelt he still had on. 

Gamzee growled and grabbed the hand that was holding the phone. Dave could barely even move his arm, Gamzee was gripping it that hard. The car rolled to a stop while Dave was trying to push Gamzee’s hand away from his own. No chance of rolling around because of the car moving? Good. Dave reached down and undid the seatbelt so his legs were free. 

“This is a fucking challenge now, and I hope you realize what you’ve done,” Dave said. Gamzee frowned and raised an eyebrow.

“Please, you two--” the driver started.

Dave rolled so his legs were over his head, and he put them on the door to get more leverage to push. Gamzee was too confused and shocked to really do anything. Dave managed to snatch the phone and roll back into a sitting position on his side. He glanced outside and saw the grocery store. He tossed the phone back to Gamzee.

“I just wanted to steal the phone from you,” Dave said, grabbing his bag and opening the door on his side. 

“You’re real motherfucking weird, you know that?” Gamzee hissed, holding his phone close to himself. 

“Dude, what are you talking about? I’m the coolest guy you’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting in your shitty existence,” Dave said, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. He slung the bag on his shoulder and hopped out of the car. “Later, dude.”

“Don’t fucking die or something, weirdo.”

Dave gave him an offended gasp and closed the door. The driver gave him an annoyed look through the window when he jogged around the car. He rushed into the grocery store and heard the car drive off. Dave dug in his bag to pull out his wallet and the credit card Bro authorized the limited use of. Rose had written him a list of things that he’d need for a decent survival. He’d get those things first--or at least what he found necessary because who needed some of the weird organic shit she put on there. 

There were Halloween decorations everywhere, and multiple tempting candy displays near the entrance. Dave walked in and kept his head down towards the list. He nodded in greeting at the security guard just inside the front doors. No need to make them think he was some kid trying to steal shit. 

When he was trying to sort out where exactly some of the things he should get were, Dave wondered if literally any of his friends had to do this kind of thing. Maybe Jade, but otherwise probably not. Having to go and get all the food was only the bad part about Bro being out of town.

An hour or so later, Dave was shoving some of the smaller things he had in his bag. A bottle of apple juice, a few packs of flavored crackers Rose had on the list, and fruit snacks managed to fit. Then he had two bags of other various shit and a gallon of milk to go with the cereal Rose had on the list, underlined and everything.

The woman that checked him out looked dead inside and didn’t even react to him being a teen getting all the things and checking out with a credit card. Dave had Bro’s signature memorized, so he signed it flawlessly and gathered all the stuff he bought. On the way out, the security guard was wishing people good night and Dave saluted him on his way out. 

It wasn’t cool to be an asshole to people just doing their goddamn job.

As he was walking home, dodging some of the stubborn people that took up all of the fucking sidewalk, his phone started ringing. Dave fumbled for it as he kept walking. He got it out of his pocket and held it between his shoulder and ear. 

“Strider,” he said.

“Are you not home from detention, yet?” Rose asked on the other line. 

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking,” Dave said. “And I had to pick up foods and shit.” 

“I’m feeling well, too. Thank you for asking how I was,” Rose chuckled. “Hurry back, Kanaya would like to get your measurements for this year’s Halloween costumes.”

“Walking up to the building now,” Dave huffed. The only good part about living where he did was the close proximity to stores. “What’s the costume plan?”

“She refuses to tell me. See you shortly,” Rose said, hanging up before Dave could say anything. 

Yup, that was Rose. Dave sighed and hung up, letting the phone just fall into one of the bags for now. He decided climbing the stairs with all the bags would be worse than the awkward standing in an elevator. 

An adult with children grumpily made room as Dave stepped on and hit the button for his floor. It was their fault for thinking they could just take up the whole elevator. He leaned against the wall near the buttons and looked down at his feet. The kids were loud as the elevator went up. That was another reason Dave usually took the stairs. His floor came first and he rushed out. He could already see Rose and Kanaya near his door. 

“Ladies,” Dave greeted, walking up to them. Rose smiled and waved, and Kanaya nodded. Her arms were filled with bags. Dave unlocked the door, balancing the bags on his arms. He kicked the door open. “Welcome back to Casa del Strider.” 

“I’m not sure that’s the proper usage,” Kanaya said, following him in with Rose just behind her. 

“Let me drop this shit,” Dave said, kicking his shoes off and rushing over to the kitchen. He shoved the bags into the corner of the counter so he could get them easier when he remembered to eat over the course of the next few weeks. The milk gallon was thrown in the near empty fridge, next to a puppet Dave was pretty sure wasn’t there this morning before Bro left. 

Kanaya was already putting her bags on the island and pulling out pins and measuring tape. Rose took a seat at the island while her girlfriend prepped all the stuff she brought. She looked around the kitchen and out over the living room. It was the usual mess, Dave knew. Blankets were strewn about the couches, a few odd game controllers here and there, some takeout boxes piled on the tables, and a couple puppets both in plain sight and half hidden to scare whoever didn’t know where they were. 

Dave unloaded some of the things out of the bag to line them up. The cereal boxes were put next to each other. The packaged foods were stacked on top of each other, the healthier stuff on top, and the sweet snack foods on the bottom.. Dave hoped it would deter him from trying to eat the snacks first. 

“Where’s Bro this year?” Rose asked while Dave carefully stackedd the foods.

“Somewhere close to San Marcos, I think,” Dave said. “I dunno, didn’t really ask, but he went south.”

“Mmh,” Rose hummed. She looked over to Kanaya. “Kanaya, do you mind telling us what exactly we’ll be dressed as? Before I decide to go through your computer, of course.”

“I believe that is a breach of privacy,” Kanaya said, frowning. She gestured for Dave to walk over next to her as she grabbed the measuring tape. “Although, I assume it’s dumb for it to be hidden. Batman villains, I thought would be a good idea.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Dave said, holding his arms out so Kanaya could start. “I’m catwoman, right? I’d be a kick ass catwoman.”

“The last time you wore heels, you tripped more times than I cared to count and you know how much I love making fun of you,” Rose scoffed, smiling slyly. Dave gasped in offense.

“Trust me, I’m not going to torture any of us with such tight fitting clothes,” Kanaya said. She scribbled down notes of the measurements she made. “Plus, with the short time left, it would be a hassle for me to make it properly. Rose and I will be Harley Quinn--the older version--and Poison Ivy, respectively. I figured with your love of mystery whether it be voluntary or not, you would make an excellent Riddler.”

“Hmm, I can deal with that,” Dave said, turning at Kanaya’s prodding. “But the shades are staying, and I better look fly as hell. More than usual.”

“When have I ever failed to meet those standards?” Kanaya asked with a chuckle. She wrapped the measuring tape around his waist and paused. “Have you lost weight again?”

“...Maybe,” Dave shrugged. He never realized when he was losing weight. 

“You should really be more concerned about that,” Rose said.

“Don’t worry about me, Rose,” Dave huffed. “I’m fine. I’ll eat these next few weeks. It’s probably just ‘cause Bro had me on the fucking grind for training.”

“Still,” Kanaya said, giving him her caring mom look. Dave shoved the shitty feeling that came up from making his friends worry right back down where it came from. It was quiet for a little while as Kanaya measured down his legs. “Oh, and I figured I might as well tell you that Gamzee has agreed to join us for the costume.”

“He’s already a fucking clown everyday,” Dave snorted. “Why get a costume for him?”

“A perfect Joker, then,” Rose said, smiling. Dave chuckled. “We’re going over to his house after this. Karkat gave us his address after frequent pestering. He’s in the wealthy neighborhood, believe it or not. I had no idea his family had money.”

“Oh, yeah, believe it, Rose,” Dave laughed. “Got like… two expensive as shit cars, and his fucking weird skeleton brother drives one around like it’s no big deal. Anyone who gives their kids that kind of car is rich as fuck.”

“Skeleton brother?” Kanaya asked incredulously. She stood up, writing down her final measurements. She began packing up her things again. 

“You gotta see him to believe it,” Dave said, leaning on the counter across from Rose. She had that sly curious smile.

“Well, I assume we will be soon,” Rose said. She got up from her seat smoothly as Kanaya slung her bags over her shoulders. 

“Brightside is, Dave, your measurements haven’t changed all that much,” Kanaya said as the two girls started going to the door.

“How’s that a brightside?” Dave asked.

“...Um, it makes it easier for me at least,” Kanaya explained. 

They exchanged pleasantries at the door and Dave waved the two girls off as they walked down the hall. He shut and locked the multiple locks on the door. He went back to the kitchen and grabbed his phone from the bag he dropped it in.

Dave realized he didn’t even have a text conversation with Gamzee. They only had that one call, and then never talked on the phone again. Normally, he wouldn’t have done anything, but Gamzee was still fairly new to the group. He deserved fair warning when Rose and Kanaya--especially Rose--were on their way to his house. 

He debated calling him instead of texting, but Dave just wasn’t in a talking mood. He was ready to curl up, half-ass his remaining homework and then finish off the songs for the CD he was going to give to Gamzee. So text it was.

 

**Me:** yo clown face, it’s the one and only strider, blessing your eyes with some killer advice

 

He didn’t expect a response as soon as it came. Maybe Gamzee was an avid texter, or at least a quick one.

 

**Gamzee:** why the FUCK do you have my number

**Me:** uh i called you and you picked me up remember

**Gamzee:** fuck that’s right

**Gamzee:** what do you want

**Me:** rose and kanaya are heading to your house because you apparently agreed to join in on their halloween shit

**Gamzee:** how did they get my ADDRESS

**Me:** they bugged karkles until he gave in

**Gamzee:** motherFUCK

 

Dave snorted and threw his phone on the couch. May the clown gods or whatever have mercy on Gamzee’s soul. 

 

X X X X X

 

Gamzee texted Dave later that night, grumbling about how dumb halloween was and asking how Dave dealt with it daily. Dave wondered if he was getting high again, judging by the sloppy capitalization and tone. It gave off less of an angry vibe and more grumpy kitten. Dave decided to entertain his ramblings for a little while, but it ended up being a lot longer than Dave first expected. He blamed it on Gamzee’s out-of-nowhere ability to pick up on and match Dave’s rhymes. It ended in a rap battle of sorts, although they just kept adding on to the other’s last one.

They reached a good ending point after a lot of back and forth. Then, Gamzee said something about getting Faygo and passing out for the night. Dave wished him luck with whatever clown shit he got on and Gamzee just sent him an emoticon. It had a fucking clown nose. Gamzee’s end went quiet after that and Dave skimmed over their rap back and forth. A lot of it… wasn’t horrible. He’d have to use some of it and screenshotted it for later.

Dave wouldn’t admit that the back and forth was fun.

The sun had gone down and Dave turned on a few lights here and there so he wouldn’t fall in the dark. He put some of the puppets in their hiding places and took a deep breath. Two weeks, all to himself? Hell fucking yes. No brothers, any of them. Dave was going to relax his ass off. Halloween fell pretty much right in the middle of the two weeks, and that was totally fine by him. He started running through some chill plans while putting together a dinner for himself. He was going to finish all the TV shows he’d been putting off and watch a shitton of movies. 

Dave turned on the TV to one of those shows as he sat on the couch with his cereal bowl. He had his laptop out, doing minor adjustments on those tracks he wanted to give Gamzee. He did make sure to eat some cereal here and there. After a while, he checked the time and set an alarm for one hour later so he remembered to sleep. As he stretched his back, the laptop started beeping at him suddenly. Dave jolted and cursed. He hadn’t even realized Skype did that automatic open thing when he powered up the laptop.

_ The Cooler Dave and DStri calling…  _

Huh. Dave thought. Been awhile since the younger of the Striders had any kind of conversation. Plus Bro wasn’t there to sneakily listen in, so it seemed like the best time, really. Props to Dirk, Dave thought as he hit accept. Dirk thought it up, usually did. 

Dave waited a few seconds as the video pictures unblurred themselves. Dirk was in his dorm room, working on some circuit board with his head ducked almost out of frame. Behind him was mostly dark, but Dave could see the faint outline of some clothing piles and a bed. The other Dave--Davis, bless Bro’s “creative” naming process when two babies showed up at the same time--had his chin in his palms and was lying down in front of his laptop. He still wore that stupid overly fluffy collared denim vest and orange bandana around his neck. There was an display of swords on the wall behind him. Dave looked at them a little too long as memories resurfaced.

There was a reason Davis wasn’t living in the apartment. A bad training session with Bro, a sword through the abdomen. Davis would have died if it hadn’t been for Dirk calling the hospital the instant he saw Bro stop. They pleaded that they were the children of some nasty parents that ditched them all, and that Davis had slipped and fell in a nasty spot. The three youngers were allowed to stay with Bro instead of going into foster homes. 

Dirk went off to private boarding school for programming the instant he got the chance. Davis and Dave were twins, so they stuck together through Davis’s recovery, and almost everything else. When high school started, Davis flew the coop, a lot like Dirk. He hitched a ride with some guys in a van and traveled the country until he found a decent place to stay. Dave didn’t know exactly where, but some place on the east coast. 

“Cooler Dave?” Dave said, leaning back and continuing to eat his cereal. 

“Yup,” Davis said with a pointed nod. Dave scoffed.

“We all know that I am the alpha, so if you’d please,” Dirk said flatly. He tilted his head up and adjusted his shitty anime shades. Dave never got how almost everyone at Dirk’s school took him seriously. Dave and Davis both snorted and Dirk went back to his circuit board. “How have you been? The both of you.”

“Pretty good,” Davis said. “Got to a new place. Some lady housing runaways or whatever. Not a foster home, thank fuck. Managed to enter some sword fighting tournaments. What about you, Dirky?”

Dirk talked about his new programming ideas, new roommate, and various other things that were going around in that area. It sounded beyond complicated. Jade would probably understand it, too.

“David,” Dirk prompted when Dave didn’t say anything. Dave shrugged. Once again, what he’d been doing seemed like absolute bullshit compared to what others around him were doing.

“Same old, same old,” Dave said quickly. Too quickly. “Making some new mixes for this guy that showed up. Apparently a friend of Karkles from online, or something. He’s pretty cool for a literal fucking clown.”   
“An actual clown?” Davis laughed. 

“His brother’s a fucking skeleton,” Dave added casually. Dirk looked up from his board and Davis stared at the screen. “Yeah. Weird ass family.”

They dissolved into conversation about whatever was happening. Talked about how they were all practically being dragged to the Lalonde household for the next two holidays after Halloween. Dave talked about the costume group he was being thrown into. Dirk agreed that he should have been catwoman, and that he might be stealing that idea. 

Davis teased Dirk about the English guy whose family owned the school. Jake, Dirk corrected, had been showing up since the last times they had a conversation like this. Dirk was dodging the fact he had a massive crush, and tried to change the topic repeatedly. He managed to change the conversation to the Jonathan guy Davis had been crushing on while he was where he was. Davis stopped teasing Dirk and changed the topic again. Dave kind of missed messing with his brothers like that. 

“Why are you making mixes for this clown guy?” Dirk asked after another moment of silence. Davis had picked up his phone, probably texting the aforementioned Jonathan. He perked up, though, imperceptible to anyone but another Strider.

“Yeah, you never share your music,” Davis said. 

Dave shrugged and focused on his cereal like it was the coolest fucking thing. He didn’t want to think of why. He’d been avoiding that kind of thinking for a reason because who needed to actually think about shit like that? Not him.

“If you were simply trying to enlighten him, you wouldn’t be making the music, just grabbing some from online,” Dirk said, reaching somewhere off camera and grabbing some other tool that he needed. “It sounds to me like this clown fucker is someone you more than tolerate.”

“He’s alright,” Dave stated. He didn’t want to talk about this, or think about it, but now it was in his head like some kind of fucking parasite. “He has a shitton of good music in the car already, so I’m just enlightening him to real shit.”

“You’ve been in his car, then,” Davis said, smirking slightly. 

“He’s been driving me back to Casa del Strider after detention,” Dave explained. 

He had to explain then, the fight they got into, the fact Gamzee literally took a bit out of someone, and why exactly he jumped in. Dirk said something about being vaguely impressed by the fact Gamzee could hold his own, and Davis raised his eyebrows over his shades. Davis commented that the fight marked the first time Dave ever threw down with anyone outside of the household. Dave shrugged it off, but the idea buried itself right next to the other one. 

Eventually, Dave’s alarm went off and he checked the time again before turning it off. Dave excused himself for sleep and Davis booed him. Apparently it was even later in his timezone. Dirk said he’d have to stay up to finish his circuit board, anyway. They said their goodbyes and Dave hung up first. He went to bed almost immediately. He was a lot more tired than he thought.

 

X X X X X

 

Dave should have expected Rose to know he and the other Striders had a conversation. Rose somehow just knew shit like that. She knew when Karkat had gotten into a super heated argument with his family. She knew when John and his grandma saw each other for the first time in a year or two. No one knew how she knew, or why she did, but she just knew. 

They all gathered for lunch at their usual table. John told Karkat and Dave eagerly about how this mystery girlfriend of his was coming down for Halloween. Dave just nodded along and Karkat actually listened. Karkat was somewhat less irritable that day, despite the whole Halloween thing. Dave didn’t ask but John did. Karkat only scoffed at him and flipped him off. Rose and Kanaya were already at the table, and Kanaya looked like she was sketching costume designs. Jade was sitting with some other people. She smiled and waved at him as they passed her table. No Gamzee, yet.

The lunch Dave made was a huge step down from the ones Bro made him. It worked, though. It was still food, regardless of the quality. Karkat made a comment on it, and Dave went on a mini rant about how superior his food was. It wasn’t going anywhere, he realized half way through, but he kept going. 

Gamzee showed up from the other side of the lunch room. He looked a lot less tense, and Dave swore he could smell the weed. It was an in between of his super tense and threatening and the dopey him from the first week or so. He smiled semi-genuinely as he slid into his seat.

“Finally got your fix again?” Dave asked when Karkat and Kanaya got into some small debate about something fashion related. Gamzee looked up from where he was carefully laying out his lunch. 

“Mmhmm,” Gamzee hummed. Dave went to his own lunch with a nod. 

Rose waited for Kanaya and Karkat to finish whatever they were talking about. Karkat was in the middle of making some point when Kanaya cut him off with her expertise. John laughed at Karkat’s face and Karkat elbowed him in the gut. Dave thought he was almost in the clear from Rose’s prodding, but the lull in conversation didn’t last long. 

“Dave, have you spoken to your brothers recently?” Rose asked. She smiled smugly when Dave gave her a look. “You’ve been quieter today. Also, we need to know if they’ll actually show up for my mother’s party.”

“You have brothers?” Gamzee asked, tilting his head to the side like an animal. 

“Dirk’s coming back into town?” John asked at the same time. Karkat scoffed

“Like we need more fucking Striders in town,” Karkat said. He rolled his eyes so hard his whole head moved. “Two is enough.”

“Aww,” Dave said, putting a hand on his chest and leaning on Karkat. “Don’t want all four Striders present? You’re just too shy to be blessed with all our mutual presences.”

“Wait there are four of you!?” John asked. Dave jolted and stared at him. Gamzee looked equally confused and so did Kanaya.

“I thought there was only… three,” Kanaya said.

“Four,” Rose said. She held up four fingers. Dave went back to eating. She’d explain it well enough. “The mysterious Bro.” She pushed one finger down. “Dirk, the genius middle child that’s currently at a… robotics school?” Dave nodded and she pushed another finger down. “Our David.” Another finger down. “And then the illusive other Dave, creatively named Davis in comparison to Davi _ d _ , twins with our own Dave, and missing.”

“There’s fucking two of you?” Gamzee asked, eyes wide. John looked equally as confused. He stared down at his hands and started counting, it looked like. Kanaya nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, yeah, Striders just crawling out of the fucking walls, big deal,” Dave said, waving his hands. Rose looked at him curiously. “You need to stop your weird psychic bullshit and oversharing on my behalf. Yes, they’re both fucking coming, done now?”

“Very well,” Rose said. She backed off.

Dave shouldn’t have snapped, he realized. That was a little much. 

“Two Daves?” John muttered.

“Yes, two Daves,” Dave said. John still looked beyond confused as he tried to put the information together for whatever reason. He was making a bigger deal out of this than needed. “Did you seriously not know I had a twin.”

“No!” John said, looking baffled and still clueless. Dave rolled his eyes.

“Wow,” Gamzee said, humming slightly. “What a motherfucking development.”

Dave cast him a suspicious look from behind his shades. Conversation moved on, even if John was still questioning his very existence. Gamzee messed with food he had in front of him. Was he eating pie for lunch? Certainly looked like it. Was it the clown thing? Was Gamzee that serious in his motif or whatever.

Lunch passed, and so did the rest of the day. Dave inspected the remnants of injuries still on his body from the strife with Bro before he left. He made sure they were healing before hurrying over to detention. 

Gamzee was playing with pencils when he sat down, and his sketchbook was just open in front of him. Dave looked over, it was hard not to. The doodles were more fluid, but there were still those occasional sharp angles and the creepy feeling all over. They were also colorful, he noticed, a rainbow of colors matching the pens Gamzee had in front of him. 

Once the teacher left, Gamzee leaned over slowly and asked Dave what his favorite color was. He mumbled half the words and Dave wondered if he had smoked even more over the course of the day. Dave told him it was red and Gamzee smiled, nodding lazily before hunching back over his sketchbook. Dave went back to his music. Those assholes were sitting in the row across from them again, and Dave glanced over. At least they weren’t bothering Dave and Gamzee again. 

Gamzee was quiet for the rest of detention, mumbling to himself, mostly. Dave couldn’t make out any words if Gamzee was even actually saying any. On the ride back, it was equally as quiet, and dull music played through the speakers. Dave really wanted too blast some of his own tunes through that system. He wanted to feel the fucking bass through his bones. 

They got to Dave’s apartment building as he was fantasizing about how fantastic it would be. Gamzee shuffled out of the car after him, insistent as ever about being some sort of gentleman. Dave rolled his eyes as Gamzee practically skipped up the stairs.

“You really are smoking again, huh?” Dave asked on their way up.

“Fuck yeah,” Gamzee said, smiling broadly. It was weird comparing that smile to the weird violent one he had the past few weeks. “All up on those motherfucking miracles.”

“No kidding,” Dave snorted.

Gamzee stopped Dave at the door to his apartment. He grabbed Dave’s hand like it was something dramatic. He placed something--a folded up piece of paper?--in Dave’s palm and closed his fingers over it. His eyes were wide and a little too focused for such a simple task, but Dave had never been that high before. Gamzee shushed him silently with that dopey grin before running back to the stairs.

Dave looked down at his hand and opened it while he walked inside the apartment. Folded up piece of paper, as expected. Dave kicked his shoes off and went to the couch. He tossed his bag down and unfolded the paper. 

It was red, for one. And it was… impressive. A sketch drawing of Dave at his laptop in detention filled the page, good lines done over in red ink. It was freakishly good and Dave found himself near genuinely impressed. That was saying a shit ton. In the background, Gamzee drew shitty figures of the guys that had sat opposite them. They looked angry and Gamzee had written “dumb fucks” above them with an arrow pointing to them. “Puppet fucker” was also written, bigger and in the empty space in the top left of the page, with a smiley face and an arrow. 

Dave pulled out his phone and opened up Gamzee and his text messages.

**Me:** clownfucker

Gamzee responded seconds later.

**Gamzee:** honk :o)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka i love davesprite and this is how he's being included


	5. Makara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lowkey back from the dead, but only because i wanted gamdave content and had to provide for myself
> 
> taking big breaks bc i'm working on orig works to try an get published etc but mayhaps we'll get semi-consistent updates here briefly

Gamzee wasn’t at school the next day. Karkat was worried, with no idea where he could be. The others were relatively indifferent, if not a little confused. Kanaya muttered something about wanting to get his input on the costume parts she had done. John just shrugged it off and tried to calm Karkat down from his worrying. Dave didn’t really know why Karkat was so worried. Gamzee was on his drugs again, and he seemed mostly stable. Why freak out about him missing a day? 

Dave blamed Karkat’s frantic worry for the itching paranoia in the back of his head. He reached one of the classes with a teacher that just lectured and lectured about bullshit barely related to the subject. He sat in the far back with the “delinquents” and pulled his phone out discreetly as the teacher got started. He opened up the conversation with Gamzee.

 

**Me:** yo where you at

 

No response. Dave busied himself working out some new rhymes. The “delinquents” in the back row with him cast him occasional glances. They didn’t say anything, or try anything. They didn’t even look at him funny, just keping glancing over. Dave wondered if it was because word spread of him being friends with the stoner clown. He knew people were scared of Gamzee because of the fight, and he heard speculation of if Gamzee was involved with illegal shit. Dave texted him again at the end of the period.

That class ended and painting came up. Dave told the teacher as she welcomed them all in that Gamzee was out, because he knew she’d ask when doing attendance. She asked if Dave knew why, but he just shrugged. Class came and went, Dave finished his newest piece. A few of the people there--the kind that were pretentious with their art--gave it nasty looks. It was amusing watching the teacher try to defend his art. The irony was lost on them, obviously, but it was still amusing watching them find meaning. 

When Dave strolled into detention, there was still no response from stoner clown. He texted him one more time just because it was annoying getting ignored. Crap, he thought. He didn’t have a ride home now. Dave let out a low sigh as he sat at the table in the back. Walking it was, he guessed. 

Dave was the last out of the detention room this time. He hated that he had to walk home. The walk was long and boring as always, somehow more so than it used to be. He put his headphones on and wished that Bro let him get a car, even if it was the cheapest shit on the road. At his building, he skipped most of the stairs, jumping over them. 

A half-assed dinner was made and eaten, and Dave watched a batch of shitty movies Egbert said he should watch while Bro was out. Dave also set an alarm that would go off and tell him to sleep.

Just before his alarm went off, just before midnight, was when Gamzee responded.

 

**Gamzee:** fuck sorry bro

**Gamzee:** was busy ALL motherfucking day

 

Dave snorted and rubbed at his eyes. 

 

**Me:** no kidding, had to walk my fine ass home

**Gamzee:** :o( i’m motherfucking sorry bro

**Me:** what were you busy with anyway

**Gamzee:** family shit ain’t nothing you need to be up and concerned about 

**Gamzee:** just sitting in on dad’s meetings and shit

**Me:** karkles was the one “up and concerned” his shit was fucking flipping like a parkour master

**Me:** you gonna be at school tomorrow?

**Gamzee:** yeah should be. imma go be messaging karbro before the cute fucker up and hurts something 

 

Huh. Gamzee thought Karkat was cute. Dave shoved the notion back with the rest of the observations about the stoner clown. 

 

**Gamzee:** did i motherfuking miss anything at school

**Me:** nothing outside the usual bullshit

**Me:** people are saying youre a gang member or something because of that fight

**Gamzee:** what? they still up and talking about that? motherfuuck

**Gamzee:** imma go message karbro now

**Me:** right, see ya dude

**Gamzee:** :o) later

 

Dave went to his room, turning the TV and rest of the systems off. He put his phone on the charger and threw on pajamas. He settled in for sleep, uninterrupted by Bro’s weird shit. That notion along let him sleep sounder. 

X X X X X

Rose and Kanaya cornered Dave and Gamzee at school the next day. Kanaya wanted to redo their measurements for the costumes, just so she’d know they’d have easy movement in them. Rose was there for shits and giggles. She showed them pictures of Kanaya’s progress. Dave was always impressed with Kanaya’s work ethic when it came to fashion. She was half done, by the looks of it, and the pieces all looked professionally made. Gamzee seemed to agree with him, muttering something about it being miraculous. Kanaya thanked the both of them, but seemed perplexed at Gamzee’s mutterings. 

“Gamzee, do you mind telling us where you were the other day?” Rose asked. Kanaya packed her things up again, making notes in her small notebook. Gamzee cocked his head to the side and stared at her. Dave prepared to tell Rose off as they walked out of the corner Kanaya led them to. 

“Dad had a motherfuck ton of meetings so I had to up and sit there lookin’ pretty,” Gamzee explained after a pause. Dave watched Rose’s expression go analytical. She hadn’t tried to get into Gamzee’s head for a while, so he guessed it was inevitable, but Dave didn’t like it. 

"Your father is a businessman?” Rose asked. Kanaya paid no attention to what her girlfriend was trying to do, scribbling things down fervently in her notebook. 

“Something like that,” Gamzee said. He shrugged and Dave knew he was the only person that noticed the change in his posture. 

It was stiffer now, on guard. Dave’s own instincts were flaring up from it, remembering how bad Gamzee had been completely sober. His smile was forced ever so slightly, but Rose took no hints as they headed back to the cafeteria. Dave tried to get Rose’s attention silently, but she was focused and unnoticing of his head shakes. 

“Where does he work that requires his son to be present? I’ve never seen a conference with that,” Rose asked. “Is he CEO?”

“Now that ain’t your motherfucking business, is it?” Gamzee laughed humorlessly. Dave watched as Rose and Gamzee glared at each other. Kanaya still didn’t notice and Dave was horribly under qualified to be a peacekeeper in this situation.

“I’m just curious, Gamzee, no need to be hostile,” Rose said. “Are you going to bite me, too?”

“Rose, chill the fuck out,” Dave interrupted. He saw Gamzee’s shoulders go even stiffer. Rose turned to him in faint surprise. “We don’t ask you about your mom and her deal, so back down. Clownfucker doesn’t want to talk about it, then he doesn’t have to. Go psychoanalyze someone else.”

“Well, you’re awful protective, aren’t you,” Rose chucked, smiling smugly. Dave rolled his eyes under his shades. “Is there something going on you’d like to tell me?”

“Yeah, you’re being an ass, and I’m calling you out on your bullshit,” Dave snapped. Rose frowned. “Ooh, yeah, what a fucking twist. It’s all twisted up like headphone wires after you put them in your pocket. The shit’s twisted and it ain’t ever not gonna be twisted. Wow. Untwisted plebeians bow down before the twisty masterpiece and say their twisting prayers. Hey yo twist god, let me be twisted as the fucking situation that happened in the hall that day. But no, the twisty god says, you can never be as twisted as that fucking situation.”

“Did I miss something?” Kanaya asked, looking up from her notebook. They walked into the cafeteria again, moving towards the table where the others were all sitting. 

“Not at all,” Dave said. Rose didn’t try again.

Karkat and Jade were arguing about something now, shooting back and forth about a topic Dave guessed they both forgot at some point. John watched helplessly. Dave sat down, ignoring the shouting, and Gamzee carefully slid into the seat next to him, watching Jade and Karkat go back and forth heatedly. 

When Dave and Gamzee were sitting in detention later that day, Gamzee poked him until he paid attention and said thanks for dealing with Rose. Dave just shrugged it off and went back to what he was doing. He realized as they climbed into Gamzee’s car afterwards they only had a few more detentions before the punishment was over. 

Dave mentioned it as they climbed the stairs up to his apartment. 

“Huh, yeah I forgot that shit was supposed to end,” Gamzee said. “You still need rides after school or will your shitty car show up?”

“We’ve been over this, don’t diss the Strider mobile,” Dave said, pushing the door to the floor open. Gamzee chuckled. “But nah, Bro’s still out of town and I can’t drive. Legally.” 

“You can keep up and riding with me, ain’t no problem,” Gamzee said. Dave nodded and unlocked his apartment door. 

There were two more sets of shoes in the entrance. Dave was on guard, immediately. Did Bro come back to get something? There was a sword in the hat stand he could grab, but he had no idea if it was moved or not. Back up plan was the sword he stashed under the kitchen counters when Bro was out awhile ago. 

“Something wrong?” Gamzee asked. Dave jolted and spun his head to look at the clown. He completely forgot Gamzee was there. He really didn’t want Bro and Gamzee to meet, especially when Bro was probably looking to just beat the shit out of something.   
  
“No, nothing,” Dave said quickly. Gamzee frowned at him. Dave sucked at lying under pressure. “Just remembered something. See ya tomorrow.” 

Dave rushed in the apartment and slammed the door shut, locking it. He kicked his sneakers off and moved into the living room. Sword was still in the hat stand, and he was about to grab it when he heard the familiar sounds of his Tony Hawk game. Bro didn’t touch that stuff. Dave didn’t grab the sword and just walked to where their gaming set up was. 

“Did you break in?” Dave asked the two figures on the couch.

“Fire escape,” Dirk said. He didn’t look up from the electronic toy he was messing with. It was some dumb robot with five catch-phrases. 

“You left a window open,” Davis further explained, not looking away from the game he was playing. “Sorry if we scared you.”

“You better fucking be,” Dave snapped. He smacked Davis on the back of the head. “I thought Bro was here with someone.”

“Who would he bring over?” Dirk asked.

“Clients and dealers,” Dave and Davis said together. Dirk paused before shrugging. 

They exchanged a fist bump and Dave walked off to dump his bag in his room. Davis’s lone suitcase laid at the foot of his bed, and Dirk’s multiple bags sat next to it. Dave wasn’t sure why he was surprised at Davis’s lack of stuff. Other Dave moved around all the time, so it made sense after a few seconds of thought. 

Dave threw his school bag on his bed and walked back out to the living room. Dirk closed the compartment to the circuit board of the toy and hit the speak button. It said a single, clear “fuck”. Dave clapped sarcastically and Davis snorted. Dirk stood to bow dramatically, dropping the robot onto the coffee table. 

“Why are you here, anyway? Just visiting early?” Dave asked, jumping over the back of the couch and sitting next to Davis. 

"Early. It’s for my sanity. If I had to stay there, I would probably die,” Dirk said, walking into the kitchen. “Plus there’s a shitton of breaks coming up for holidays ‘cause it’s all rich people there.”

“What about the sanity?” Davis asked. 

“Jake English,” Dirk sighed. Dave pursed his lips and nodded. There were some clanging from the kitchen.

"I thought things were going well?” Davis asked. 

“Just a bunch of bullshit,” Dirk said, coming back with snack foods. “It didn’t work out.”

Dave and Davis exchanged a silent look as Dirk sat next to them. They weren’t going to ask. Dirk would shut down even more than normal if they did. 

“So was that clown guy?” Dirk asked, changing the topic and breaking the momentary silence. 

“Yeah,” Dave said. “I would have let you meet him if you… y’know told me you guys would be early.” He looked at his twin and kicked his leg. “What about you, why are you here, thought you were on the east coast.”

“Got a cheap plane ticket and met Dirk at the airport,” Davis explained. “I just wanted to… get back.”

His voice broke ever so slightly at the end. 

“What happened?” Dave asked. Dirk tilted his head to look at Davis more directly. 

“Nothing,” Davis said. 

Dave didn’t press. They were Striders, they didn’t do emotions until it was drowning them or they were in a particularly self-depreciating mood. Sometimes both. Dave and Dirk got controllers and they joined the game with Davis. They set off to make it the glitchiest thing they could, and soon Tony Hawk and his buddies were flying through the air and going through the ground. It was true art.

X X X X X

Gamzee was high and sedated as hell the next day. He dragged his feet, and the dopey smile was ever present. His drawings were loose and flowing and more colorful than the last lot. He talked more, too, drawling and messing up his own words. Karkat seemed relieved. At lunch, he told Dave a story about his older brother, Kurloz, and their father. 

With Gamzee being high like that, he was also more loose-tongued. Rose didn’t try, but Dave had a feeling if she did she could easily get information out of the poor clown. Gamzee let a few details slip Dave felt weird noticing. His father being very dangerous, was one of them, and him not biologically being their dad, was another. Dave told him that he didn’t need to tell Dave all that, story aside. Gamzee looked confused before realizing what he did. It still only resulted in giggles that sounded like honks and was followed by a question of Dave’s family.

It was standard things that Dave was well versed in shutting down. Who takes care of him? Bro. What about the siblings? Davis and Dirk, and Bro obvious from his title. Parents? Never knew them. 

Still, it led Dave back to the thought of introducing Gamzee to Davis and Dirk. So something came out of the questioning, and Dave decided it wasn’t something he was going to force. If they met, they met. He wasn’t gonna plan for it, at least. 

Gamzee chatted absently about something trivial as they walked to the next class they shared. It was odd how their schedules synced up on certain days. Gamzee lost track of what he was saying a few times, but Dave didn’t. Dave had to remind him a few times. He guessed whatever Gamzee was on this times was a lot stronger. 

A group project was announced in that very class, like so many coming of age films and shitty high-school romance films. Dave couldn’t not appreciate it, even if it was History and Dave hated it with a passion. Gamzee and Dave were sitting next to each other as the teacher announced that groups were pairs, save for a group of three, and they were self chosen. Dave immediately looked at Gamzee, while the clown was in the process of rolling his head to look over at him. Dave smirked and the timing of it and Gamzee giggled. 

Two weeks to finish, probably have to work on it after school, blah blah blah, keep it PG-13. Oh Dave would find the most subtle way to undo that, even if he had to talk about the genitals of a Pope. It was a challenge now, and he was already scheming. 

Gamzee tripped down the stairs after the class and Dave wasn’t sure why his adrenaline spiked as he watched it happen. It was the bad kind of spike, like when he did something reckless. Gamzee just fumbled over his own feet and down he went. He put his arms up to guard his head--Dave’s not sure if it worked--and rolled down the stairs. It didn’t look too bad, but Dave jumped down the stairs to force him to go to the nurse. 

Dave was worried, he realized as he delayed going to detention to make sure Gamzee didn’t need like an emergency ride home. The nurse made Gamzee lay down, and Dave make sure he didn’t fall asleep or anything. Dave sat in one of the uncomfortable folding chairs for the kids that didn’t need the bed. As the nurse went to go get ice packs, Gamzee rolled his head on his shoulders and looked at Dave semi-upside down.

“You can go to detention, brother, ain’t no reason to worry about me,” Gamzee said. He grinned. “I’ve fallen down bigger flights before. This is nothin’.”

“Yeah, no, I’m good here. You might’ve hit your head and I know my concussions,” Dave said. He doesn’t add that he’s been knocked down stairs quite a few times, and knows how bad it hurts. “Always gotta watch the stairs.”

Gamzee sighed and knocked his head back on the flimsy pillow. The nurse came back and gave Gamzee and ice pack and a warning to watch for concussion symptoms. Gamzee nodded along and she dismissed him with a note to give to the person in charge of detention that day. Dave and Gamzee walked down the halls slower than normal, if only to stall for less time sitting in detention. 

“Yo,” Gamzee drawled. The ice pack sat uselessly on his head. “You wanna get like a fuckin’... headstart on that project?” 

“Today?” 

“Yeah, don’t see why not unless you’re busy. Don’t wanna up and intrude.”

Dave thought about it. Why not indeed. Objectively, it was smart to have Gamzee over before Bro came back, but also Dirk and Davis were there and Dave wasn’t sure how they’d all get along. 

“Maybe tomorrow, or over the weekend,” Dave said. Halloween was the day after tomorrow, perfectly on a Friday. “No. If we’re doing this, we’re doing weekend. Get sugar high on the sick candies and then try to do work.”

Gamzee grinned and chuckled, “Sounds like a motherfuckin’ plan, bro.”

Dave told himself to mention Gamzee’s to-be appearance at the Strider household to Dirk and Davis that night. Set ground rules, lines not to cross when making conversation, the basic things. 

After Dave got dropped off at his apartment door that afternoon, he wondered why he was planning so deeply. He told himself it wasn’t going to happen, and yet it kept happening. He started overthinking instantly. Were he and Gamzee actually friends? Were they close enough to have sleep overs? Was Gamzee picking up on the implied sleepover? He should probably clarify. He would clarify the next day.

Davis and Dirk were playing DDR in the living room when he walked in. Davis shouted for Dave to come help him sabotage their brother, and Dirk refused to lose his combo. Naturally, Dave dropped his bag and leaped over the couch onto Dirk’s back. Dirk screeched and Davis cackled like a mad man as his combo vanished. Dirk kicked Dave off and jumped back to his feet to try an save his combos, but they were well and truly ruined. Dave rolled onto his back him and Davis still laughing. Dirk collapses like a broken man on the DDR mat. Dave had tears in his eyes and Davis was heaving. 

Dirk tackled the two of them the second they caught their breath. 

It was nice having a small strife with his brothers, without having to worry about the punishment that usually followed slipping up. By the end of it, Dave had a bruise on his shoulder, another small one forming on his jaw, and only a few nicks from a blade on his arms. They stung, sure, but it felt weirdly comforting as he, Davis, and Dirk piled into the bathroom for Band-Aids and medicine. They got ice packs from the fridge and all collapsed on the couch together. They watched the movies Davis found on his travels, and eventually fell asleep in their old fashioned Strider pile. 

Dave set a reminder before they did to tell them about Gamzee in the morning. 

X X X X X

“Dave, your phone’s going fucking crazy,” Davis said, poking the offending device. Dave walked into the kitchen from the bathroom. Dirk was cooking food for breakfast, and making a perfect lunch for Dave at school. Dave towel dried his hair as he sat down in the stool next to his twin. “It rung like three times. So popular.”

“When did you get so many early rising friends, Dave?” Dirk asked. He didn’t look up from his work. 

“Never?” Dave mumbled. He picked up his phone and looked at the screen. Davis looked over his shoulder. 

The reminder flashed on the screen:  _ tell sibs abt clown _ .

“Ooh, we get to learn of the illusive clown man?” Davis asked, wraggling his eyebrows like they’re ready to take flight. Dirk turned from the counters, wearing the obnoxiously frilly apron Davis sent to the apartment a long time ago. Dave rolled his eyes, swiped the notification away, and put the phone back down.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave said. “Gather, gather, as I spin you two the raddest of tales of the clown.”

Dirk finished up their breakfast and served it with too much flourish for microwaved waffles. He sat across from them and put out syrup and butter. 

“Why are we hearing about him now?” Dirk asked. “In particular.”

“He’s staying over after Halloween because we got a history project.”

“Just like the movies,” Davis sighed.

“Indeed. So, clown man. Has been driving my cute ass home from detention for a while because he offered once and I didn’t want to walk,” Dave explained. “Decent guy, actually. Hella fucking stoned most of the time. When he’s not, he’s highkey fucking terrifying. All kinds of fight or flight responses going off. Around him. Hella freaky.”

“Does he have a name or shall we only know of him as the Clown?” Davis asked. He had a mouthful of waffle. Dave would be grossed out if he wasn’t guilty of the same thing.

“Name’s Gamzee. Makara I think.”

Davis choked on his waffle. Dirk and Dave stared at him as he coughed his throat clear. 

“Makara? Like... Makara?” Davis asked, still catching his breath. He lifted his shades and Dave felt a sort of fear set in. Davis’s eyes were wide and he looked panicked. “Like really fucking tall, right? Hair that adds like an extra few fucking inches.”

“Yeah…?” Dave said. That sure was a legitimate fear setting in his stomach. That wasn’t pleasant.

“Fuck, Dave! You didn’t tell me he was a fucking  _ Makara _ !” Davis almost shouted. Dave and Dirk stayed silent, staring at him. Davis faltered as he realized they had no idea who or what he was talking about. “Seriously? Makara. The Makaras? The fucking gang?” More silence. Davis looked so disappointed. “Oh my god. They’re one of the biggest fucking… mafia-cult thing down here. How do you not know this?”

“Sorry if I don’t regularly dive into the black market,” Dave said. Wow that fear was really in deep. Making a little home for itself. Gamzee in a gang-cult-mafia-whatever. It explained his dad’s vague work and the meetings he had to attend. Oh hey the fear has a family now, little fear children run on the front lawn.

“Likewise,” Dirk said.

Davis stood and put his hands in his hair. He cursed under his breath. 

“Okay… okay. Maybe this is fine. You’re like buddies with this Makara, right? Maybe it’s all chill, but like,” Davis said. He pointed at Dave and added, with a very serious tone, “You gotta know, if it’s the same Makaras, they’re bad news when you’re on their bad side. I don’t know a lot, but like… I know they got a body count of people who cross them. Like the cliche shit, but real and real scary.”

“Relax, Davis,” Dave said. He ignored the fear city that’s advancing way too fast in his stomach. “I’m like… pretty sure Gamzee appreciates my presence.”

He wanted to add that he doesn’t think Gamzee’s involved, but now he’s getting memories from the fight. Gamzee seemed like he knew what he was doing, obviously, but now there was a reason for it. 

Gamzee was in a crime empire family. Fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyy here we go. forcing myself right into the plot i had planned forever ago


	6. Sleepover (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should have written this when it was spooky month but eh i got there eventually
> 
> (also name change mackismagic -> galeissomething)

Halloween was a fun as all the other ones after Jade moved into town. She took Halloween seriously. Not in the case that she wanted maximum candy intake, but in the case that she wanted to have as much fun as possible. It wasn’t parties, it wasn’t pranks, it was sheer foolishness. They run around in their costumes, get candy where they can and just be dumb teens like they deserve to.

The costumes are the best part, in Dave’s opinion. 

Jade was Dorothy from  _ The Wizard of Oz _ . She brought Bec along this time as her Toto. Karkat wore the sweater that just said “costume” on it. John wore the same Ghostbuster suit he had worn for several years. Rose and Kanaya were on point, as always, now with their Batman villain theme. Rose looked like the Harley Quinn from the comics, and Kanaya matched her as Poison Ivy. 

Dave wanted to question Kanaya’s costume making skills, but he was scared he would hear something he wasn’t prepared to hear. 

Then of course, came himself and Gamzee. 

The Riddler suit was basically tailored to him. It was weird having clothes that fit so perfectly and were formal wear. Kanaya found a bowler hat and painted it bright green and stuck a huge question mark on the front. She also found an obnoxious pair of sunglasses with green frames. Thought they were different from his trademark ones, Dave would profess his love for them without hesitation. 

Gamzee made an eerie good Joker, even. His usual gray-white facepaint was swapped out for a bright red smile and black smudged spots over his eyes. Classic Joker style. The coat and shirt were acutally his size and not extremely baggy. The hair was a lost cause, even after a solid half hour of attempting to gel it back. Jade, Kanaya, and Karkat were all involved in the effort. Rose, Dave, and John had watched them struggle with minor concern. Half a container of gel later, they gave up, and decided to just roll with it. 

Dave was pretty sure he was the only one that noticed Gamzee was on the decline again already. It was small things. He stood mostly up right, instead of hunched over. But that also could have been the fact that Kanaya said he should stand up straight so the costume looked good. Regardless, Dave was just a little on edge with it all, but if the others didn’t notice Gamzee’s behavior, they sure didn’t notice Dave’s. 

The night was still fun. Karkat was relentlessly mocked for his “costume.” Rose asked many times if John actally washed his costume. A kid in a batman costume approached them and their parent insisted on a picture. Rose and Kanaya made sure they got plenty of proper photos of the costumes. Jade made them stop many times so kids could pet Bec. Dave Googled many easy riddles that he could remember and kept asking them to the group. John was baffled and tried to figure them out the entire night. Rose knew them all, and Karkat figured out a few. Jade made Dave tell her the answers, then she lorded them over John. Kanaya didn’t care, and neither did Gamzee, but even they answered one or two. 

It was around ten when they headed back to John’s house, where they all met before setting off. Gamzee had brought a bag for overnight at Dave’s apartment, as planned and discussed the day before. Kanaya made them swear to keep the costumes in good condition until she collected them on Monday. 

Karkat’s older brother, Kankri, showed up a little after they all got back to take him and Kanaya home. Jade had been planning to stay over night with John, anyway, and John’s dad was already making them dinner when they got back. Rose called her mother to let her know that she needed a ride. 

Gamzee was ready to call a driver, but Dave felt a little weird letting him given new knowledge. With some not so subtly begging, Dave convinced Kankri to drive himself and Gamzee to the apartment building. He wasn’t dumb, and could tell just from how Kankri thought it over that he didn’t care for Gamzee at all. Karkat was the deciding factor, basically dragging Gamzee to the car before Kankri could come up with an excuse. 

Karkat sat in between Dave and Gamzee in the back, and Kanaya took the passenger seat. The ride was tense, and Kankri only played political podcasts over the sound system. Dave tuned it out and played a dumb game on his phone. It didn’t take long for Karkat to start criticizing his game skills. The air in the car was still heavy. Kankri was giving off all kinds of bad vibes towards Gamzee and Dave almost felt bad. 

Then he was wondering if the Vantas family knew about the Makara ordeal. Was that why Karkat was always worried about Gamzee when he behaved differently? Or did Kankri know in particular, and so disliked Karkat being friends with Gamzee? Dave didn’t like there being so much speculation around Gamzee now. It was a lot simpler when he was just a high clown with a honk laugh and art skills. 

Luckily, the Strider apartment came up first, so Dave didn’t have to deal with the tension in the car or his own spiraling thoughts too long. Gamzee got out right onto the side walk, and Dave started to climb over Karkat to get out on the other side of the car.

“Oh my fucking god, Strider,” Karkat said. He tried to push Dave away as he put a knee in Karkat’s lap. “What the fuck are doing?! Just get out the other door!”

“Karkat Vantas!” Kankri gasped from the driver’s seat. Like the church going, middle-aged, white, suburban, soccer mom he embodied so often. “There is no foul language in my car!”

“Fuck you!” Karkat shouted. Dave snorted and crawled over Karkat’s lap while he was busy yelling at his brother. Kankri turned around in the seat with almost real fire in his eyes. 

“Karkat! Do you have any idea how rude that is!?”

“No shit! That’s the fucking point! And why are you getting on my ass?! Cronus swears all the fucking time.”

“He’s in college, you are not, so watch your language!”

“FUCK. OFF.”

Another scandalized gasp and Dave said a quiet goodbye to Kanaya and hopped out the car. He shut the door, but Kankri and Karkat fights are easily heard through the car walls. Dave raised his eyebrows at Gamzee and the other snorted. 

“We will be having a very in depth conversation about this when we get home!” followed by a “FUCKING HELL!” were the last things they heard as Kankri kept driving. 

“May the messiahs have mercy on Karbro’s poor swearing soul,” Gamzee muttered. Dave nodded solemnly and turned to enter the building. Gamzee followed him with a small initial stumble.

They took the elevator, both way too drained from walking around town earlier. It’s just the two of them. Gamzee put his bag down and it thumped heavily.

“Fuck, do you have a body in there?” Dave asked with a laugh. Gamzee looked over at him and grinned mischeviously.

“No today,” Gamzee said, giggling at the end. Dave would laugh, but his mind immediately hopped back to the Makara family deal. He managed a smirk. It was half hearted at best. “Just laptop and shit to get a proper sleepover on.”

Dave did laugh at that, and Gamzee snickered. They reached the floot and walked to Dave’s door. Dave dug his keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the door.

“You ain’t gonna… freak out or whatever this time, right?” Gamzee asked and Dave pushed the door open. Dave looked at the shoe count in the entrance. The same number as before. 

“Yup, we good. No shoes, by the way, just shove ‘em in the corner.” 

Gamzee walked in after Dave and began to kick his shoes off. They’re dress shoes, which Dave had been surprised to see. Kanaya apparently made him wear them for costume authenticity, but they were Gamzee’s shoes to begin with. That notion once again brought up the mafia meeting thoughts and Dave really wished Davis had just kept his mouth shut. Then he wouldn’t be worrying about Gamzee’s family having a fucking body count. 

“This place is motherfucking impressive for the shit car your brother drives around,” Gamzee said. The shit eating grin on his face said he knew what he was doing.

Dave gasped while he locked the door. “How dare you insult the Strider mobile in the Strider household,” he hissed. Gamzee grinned wider. Dave shook his head in mock disgrace. “You’re disgusting.”

Gamzee stuck his tongue out at him and walked further into the apartment. 

Maybe Dave should have cleaned some of the puppets up, or thrown out some of the food boxes, before Gamzee showed up. He dismissed it. Gamzee wasn’t the kind to judge. Dave followed after him, kicking off the painted green sneakers Kanaya gave him. 

Dirk and Davis were in the kitchen, eating the left over candy that trick-or-treaters didn’t get. They had stayed in to hand out candy, but it wasn’t like the apartment building had too many kids wandering around. Dirk was organizing the plethora of M&Ms by color and type--regular and peanut. Davis was eating a KitKit bar like a heathen--definintely knowing what he was doing. 

“Welcome back, Dave,” Dirk said, not even looking up as Dave walked in. Gamzee waited in the door of the kitchen. “Care to add to my collection? Specifically blues and yellows, as I have very low totals for those.”

Dave dug into his bag and handed him the many fun-sized packs he got, “Go nuts.”

“Gonna introduce us to your clown?” Davis asked. He was on edge, and Dave guessed that meant Gamzee looked like a Makara as Davis predicted. Little room for  _ maybe he isn’t _ now.

“He’s not a fucking pet, he can introduce himself if he wants,” Dave said.

“Gamzee Makara. Guessing you’re second Dave?” Gamzee started. He walked into the kitchen, leaning on the counter next to where Dave stood. Davis gasped in offense.

“I was born first,” Davis snapped.

“By three minutes,” Dirk and Dave added. 

“An argument only ever given by the younger.”

Dave rolled his eyes, making sure it was visible to all by also moving his head. Gamzee snorted and laughed quietly. Dirk finished organizing his M&Ms and slid them into ziplock bags by color and type. Davis continued to take bites out of an unbroken KitKat bar. Dave nudged Gamzee.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the right, last door, if you wanna wash that facepaint off,” Dave said. Gamzee nodded and walked off in the direction he said. Davis made idle chatter while they waited to hear the bathroom door. Once they did, Davis immediately shut up and gave Dave a look.

“He’s certainly a Makara,” Davis said quietly. “Looks alone give it away.”   


“Congratulations, Dave, you’re friends with a clown cultist,” Dirk snorted. 

Dave asked, “We’ve upgraded to cultist?”

“I do my research.”

Dave didn’t ask about what else he found. He explained again that they planned to just hang out in Dave’s room for the weekend, gorge on candy, and try to finish the project early so they never had to worry about it again. Dirk and Davis just nodded along. Davis had somehow made plans with Jade, without Dave hearing about it, for the weekend, and Dirk planned to visit Roxy and Jane. They would pretty much have the apartment to themselves, so maybe Dave would let Gamzee be blessed enough to watch movies on the Strider sound system. 

Dave walked to his room and changed into pajamas. Big, fluffy pants and an oversized t-shirt. He carefully hung the costume on a hanger and put it in his closet. He set a reminder to bring it with him on Monday so Kanaya wouldn’t kick his ass for forgetting. He grabbed pillows and blankets and spread them over the middle of the room. He kicked cords out of the way and moved the beanbag chair closer to the middle. They didn’t have an extra matress or anything, but Dave rarely slept in his bed properly anyway. He’d be fine in the beanbag chair if Gamzee wanted a real matress. 

Gamzee walked down the hall, looking around curiously, and Dave called him over. Gamzee stood just in the doorway for a while, looking around and inspecting Dave’s room for a little while. 

“Watch the wires,” Dave said. “I got a lot of shit hooked up to my turn tables.” 

“Mhm,” Gamzee nodded. He walked towards the middle of the room and put his dufflebag and candy haul down. He followed Dave’s example and hung up his costume next to Dave’s. He plopped down on the ground and rummaged around in his bag. He took out a laptop covered in stickers, over-head headphones that looked very expensive, a dark purple blanket, and a pillow. 

Dave didn’t know what to think or feel with Gamzee in his space, so he did what he always did and dived into his own thoughts. 

When was the last time he had people outside of the Striders and Lalondes in the apartment? He’s pretty sure it was Karkat for five minutes during the summer. He was sure he’d never had anyone stay overnight, much less a few nights. Granted, Bro was still out and would be out for the entirety of Gamzee’s stay, as far as Dave knew. There was still some lingering feeling that Dave should tell Gamzee to leave before something bad happened, before anything happened. There was a reason John was only allowed over once, and then any other time they went to John’s house instead. There was a reason Bro and John’s Dad or Karkat’s had never met. There were reasons that Dirk and Davis hit the road as soon as they could. 

Even if they did let people over, they never really went in Dave’s room. No one’s rooms, really. The farthest John got was the bathroom and the living room, and Dave knew him for years. How long has he known Gamzee? A month or two? Dave kept people at distance for a few reasons, but here he was being a fucking idiot and disregarding those very good reasons. Dave wanted to laugh at himself for the ridiculous scenario he found himself in. 

So many reasons why Dave should have thought this through more. Now he had a fucking clown sitting on his bedroom floor! 

Dave turned around once his internal freakout is over and found Gamzee staring at him. Dave then noticed something he probably should have earlier. 

Gamzee didn’t have face paint on. Can’t call him a clown, then. Dave was shocked silent--something that has never really happened to him. Gamzee continued to stare at him, eyes half closed and frowning. He raised his eyebrows, it distorted all three of the diagonal scars stretching across his face.

The highest went from his forehead, over his right eye, and onto his  right cheek. The middle one went over his left eyebrow, narrowly missing his left eye, then over his nose and right cheek. The last one started somewhere just above his left eye, went through it, then over his mouth. 

Dave knew his scars, and those three were deep and serious. Gamzee was lucky he didn’t go blind since both his eyes got caught. Gamzee blinked slowly and startled a bit. He smirked. 

“Fuck. Strider, looks like you up and saw a ghost,” Gamzee said. Dave frowned and crossed his arms, just to do something with them. Gamzee’s turned dopey and he leaned back on the beanbag, putting his chin in his hand and squishing his face in an odd way. “Am I that pretty?”

“More like fucked up,” Dave said before he could think. Gamzee tilted his head to the side. Don’t ask about the scars, you wouldn’t want people to ask about yours, he told himself.  _ Don’t ask about the scars, you wouldn’t want people to ask about yours. Don’t ask about the scars. Don’t ask about the scars. _ “What happened to your face?” Fucking hell.

“Right,” Gamzee dragged out the word. “Your first time seeing me without paint. Tell ya how I did it. There’s this miraculous thing called water and--”

There’s his out!

“The scars, fuckhead. What happened?”

Goddammit, Dave.

Gamzee didn’t say anything. He stared at Dave with the same expression as the first. He was probably waiting for Dave to take it back. 

What a great way to start a weekend-long sleepover. Let’s just pry into the deepest parts of the sleep over members’ past. Fucking dig in and start to hate each other. Why the fuck not? Except the fact that Dave had actually made another friend in Gamzee, which was rare as fuck, but he trusted Gamzee enough to let him stay at the apartment. Dave still couldn’t put his finger on why that was, but here he was! 

He was considering offering Gamzee an exchange of Tragic Backstory. He learned why Gamzee’s face was so fucked and Dave spilled a bit about Bro and why he always had so many bruises and scratches. 

WHY THE FUCK WAS HE CONSIDERING THAT!?

Dave wanted to put his headphones on and vanish into a fucking hole where he only had to worry about his music, but even that was tainted with the track he made for Gamzee. Why did he want to know so bad? Why was he suddenly so worried? 

“Hey,” Gamzee said. Dave jolted and realized he had been standing stock still for at least a few minutes. Gamzee looked worried, now. Which he shouldn’t be. Dave was the one having a crisis, he should be worrying, not Gamzee. “You alright, bro? I don’t mind you motherfucking askin’, but you ain’t getting an answer.”

“No, yeah, yeah, sorry,” Dave sighed. He rubbed his forehead with his hand. “That was really dumb of me. Sorry.”   


“Ain’t no trouble. But there another reason you look so scared?”

“I--” Dave started. He sighed again and sat down against his bed. “People don’t usually enter Casa del Strider, and I freaked out. Sorry, just gimme a sec and I’ll be good.” 

Gamzee nodded slowly and turned back to his things. Dave took deep breaths.

This was fine. Gamzee could handle himself if shit went down. He was in some clown cult thing. Maybe Dave should ask about that? Nope. He just saw where questioning got him and he almost fucked the entire weekend over. He heard Gamzee rustling in his bag again.

“You got water bottles in your fridge?” Gamzee asked, standing up. Dave nodded without really listening. 

He vaguely heard the door to his room open and close again as Gamzee left, but he was busy hiding his face in his hands. Why was this freaking him out so bad. He’d been through worse than a fucking  _ sleepover _ . 

Dave sighed again and decided to see this as no different than any other day talking with Gamzee. Except Gamzee didn’t have his face paint, which was like shades to a Strider, and it felt like some kind of wall was knocked down. Gamzee obviously didn’t think so but Dave dwelled on it.

With yet another sigh, Dave dropped his hands and took off his shades. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over the room. This was his room, the place he was always chill in, he wasn’t going to let one person disturb that. He saw a pill bottle next to where Gamzee had been sitting. Half of him wanted to inspect it, and the other half screeched that it was probably meds like he took. Anti-depressants, or anxiety meds, or something. The first half won out, and Dave scooted over. 

It was bright orange with the classic white cap. Dave picked the little bottle up and turned it so he could read the kind and dosage. 

 

_ CLOZAPINE ORAL _

__ _ 1 TABLET (200 mg) _

 

Dave put the bottle back down and stood to get his own laptop. He put his shades back on as he went. He had no idea what the fuck Clozapine was, so Google to the rescue. He sat down next to where Gamzee had been, leaning against the beanbag at a different angle.

Gamzee stumbled back into the room with two bottles. He handed one to Dave silently and Dave nodded with thanks. Gamzee sat back down next to him and popped open the pill bottle. He downed one of the oval, pale yellow pills, and took a sip of water to help it go down. Dave found himself snorting.

“What?” Gamzee asked. He frowned and gave Dave a look.

Dave waved his hand, unable to stop the smirk on his face. He said, “Sorry, just reminded me that Dirk takes his pills dry.”

Gamzee maked a disgusted face and mock gagged. Dave laughed and nodded. 

They turned on their respective laptops and started eating their candy. Dave handed any he didn’t like over to Gamzee, and the clown ate all he could. At one point, Gamzee pulled Faygo--fucking actual, genuine Faygo--out of his bag and offered some to Dave. Dave said he valued his health, and Gamzee flicked his arm. Gamzee finished the entire bottle in maybe twenty-five minutes.

Around 11:30, Gamzee turned to Dave and asked, “You mind if I smoke in here?” 

Dave had no idea where his common sense was. Bro was a dealer, so it wasn’t like he was averse to any of it, but it didn’t mean he did.

“Sure, just point it away from me,” Dave said. Gamzee smiled and pulled a baggie out of his duffel. Dave would have to ask how much shit Gamzee could fit in there. It was a bit crazy. 

Gamzee had his own lighter, too. It was painted in a rainbow of colors and had purple smileys like the ones he sent in text here and there. He lit the blunt with ease that only came from practice and took a long drag. Dave watched him out of the corner of his eyes. This was a horrible time for him to be reminded of how gay he was… and to realize that Gamzee was attractive and dangerous looking while he smoked. 

The smell was pungent, but Dave didn’t mind too much. Gamzee smelled more like candy and soda than what he was smoking.

It was midnight when Gamzee started snoring quietly. Dave was playing the music he was working on through his garbage laptop speakers, and Gamzee had switched to drawing in his sketchbook. The blunt had been put out minutes before Gamzee was alseep. Dave, being the nosy shit he knew he was, peeked over at Gamzee’s sketchbook. Smoking figures, and wild shapes and other figures made out of the smoke. 

It was also time for Dave to finally look up that medication. He wasn’t going to risk Gamzee glancing over and seeing it, but now that he was asleep? Perfect timing. 

 

**_Antipsychotic_ **

_ It can treat schizophrenia. It can also lower the risk of suicidal behavior in patients with schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder. _

 

Dave’s finger stalled over the keys. He glanced over at Gamzee. It explained some things. Were the scars a suicide attempt? Dave had his fair share of those, but on a face? Couldn’t be… right?

Dave saved his music work and shut his laptop. It was too much information at once. Dave got up and moved to his bed. He put his shades on the end table and flopped down. It was a little early for him, but he wanted to sleep on everything that he just learned. And maybe delay the processing of it all a bit more. He glanced over at Gamzee, half on the beanbag and half on the ground. There was the empty Faygo bottle next to him, sketchbook in his lap, and the scent of the blunt still in the air. 

And Dave found him attractive. If he was actually facing any of his thoughts, he would realize that a part of him always thought Gamzee was hot in a weird way, even with the face paint on. Now, with that wall down that only he seemed to recognize, the rest of him was ready to accept. He wished he could be as casual with scars as Gamzee was. He really wanted to know where Gamzee got the facial scars. 

Dave put his face in a pillow and willed himself to instantly fall asleep. It didn’t work, but eventually he got there. 


	7. Sleepover (2)

The project would have been done within a few hours had they done it Dave’s way. Dave was a workaholic when he got in the zone and Gamzee was good at getting info they needed. Dave prepared to print out all the information so they can paste it onto the poster board Dirk picked up for them earlier that morning. Gamzee insisted they write it by hand. Dave already printed the things, and as he attempted to tape it down, Gamzee dumped his colorful pens all over the board. 

Dave gave in, but he made sure at least half the things were written in his favorite shade of red. Gamzee worked with the purple-red theme they started. Dave let him do all the work, and goofed off making paper airplanes out of their unused paper. He threw them all at Gamzee while the clown was writing. One went into Gamzee’s hair and stayed propped up until Dave took it out himself. He then spent a while poking pencils into Gamzee’s hair curiously. 

“You ever lose stuff in here?” Dave asked.

“All the motherfuckin’ time,” Gamzee said. There was no hesitation in the answer and that made Dave chuckle. “Shit comes out when you wash it.”

“Ever lose a pencil down the drain?”

“Not yet.” Gamzee paused and lifted his head a bit, biting the end of his purple pen. Dave let the pencil he was poking him with fall to the ground with the movement. “Or not that I up and noticed.”

Dave laughed and laid down next to where Gamzee was writing. He looked up at Gamzee’s face through his shades. Gamzee was totally focused on the presentation board. His eyes were almost purple. The three scars looked even more like scratch marks from the new angle. The skin was raised and a little red. Gamzee had also let his fingernails grow back to sharp nails. Dave wondered if he did it to himself. Probably not, but he looked up schizophrenia after he woke up, when Gamzee was still snoring. The whole self-harm umbrella was a symptom, he was pretty sure. 

Gamzee was dead silent until he was done, and meanwhile Dave checked his social medias. Jade and John had texted him with their candy total, just to brag to another person. Rose and Kanaya posted their costume pictures, filtered and cropped to perfection. The last picture in the post was Karkat flipping the camera off. It was blurry and looked like a cryptid sighting. Dave decided it was his favorite out of them all. 

Some new people were trying to dissect SBaHJ. Dave skimmed it. Some of it wasn’t too desperate to explain it. Didn’t mean they were right, though. Dave didn’t respond to any of it. He queued up the next post for SBaHJ. 

When Gamzee was done, he smiled broad and crooked. Dave rolled off the part of the board he was on top of. Gamzee rolled up the poster and secured it with some hair ties he brought with him. He then flopped down on the floor next to Dave.

“Now, what kinda shit do you get up in a motherfuckin’ sleepover?” Gamzee asked. Dave locked his phone and put it down.

“Pillow fight? Talk about guys? Bitch about the girls that backstab us?” Dave said. Gamzee was staring at him with a curious frown. Dave shrugged. “I’ve only seen TV versions. Thought you might have an idea of what we’re supposed to do.”

Gamzee giggled, “Not in the slightest.”

“People not allowed over at your house often, either?”

“Not really, just no one wants to come over. Ain’t no one in the last town I lived in liked me all that motherfuckin much. All creeped out or fuckinnng… whatever.”

“It’s like that,” Dave said. He wasn’t expecting a genuine answer. He picked at the carpet absently. “Bro just doesn’t really like people coming over. That and people don’t like me too much either. I annoy them. He’s outta town for the weekend, or he should be, so that’s the only reason you’re here and we’re not at like… John’s house or something.”

“Your Bro’s the… hat wearin’ fucker, right?” 

Dave froze before remembering the thing that got the two of them in detention for the first thing. Gamzee and Bro had “met” and he’d at least seen Gamzee’s behemoth of a dad. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Dave said. He didn’t want to talk about Bro. He was already terrified of Bro returning early and forcing a strife. He didn’t want Gamzee to know and get thrown into his shitty family troubles. “He DJs.”

“Those turntables yours or his?”

Oh fucking bless the clown and his topic changing skills. Dave brightened up a little and hopped to his feet. 

“This majestic creature of machinery is all mine,” he said. He stood in front of his turntables, to the side so he can still see Gamzee. He ran his hands over one of the records still there. He took very good care of them. “One thing I asked for on my birthday one year. Keep them clean and the shit tight.”

“Miraculous, man,” Gamzee said. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one hand. “Saw you mixing some beats when we were all in detention and shit. You good?”

“I think so.” Dave shrugged and walked back over to his laptop. He wasn’t going to get insecure now of all fucking times.  “I actually put together a playlist for you.”

“Huh?” 

“Yeah.”

Dave ignored the wide-eyed, vaguely awestruck expression Gamzee had plastered all over his face. Gamzee stared at him as he walked over and grabbed a thumb drive. He turned his laptop on and plugged in the thumb drive.

“Remember? Your car music is trash, so I’m educating you?” Dave asked. It was partially a self reminder, too.

Gamzee chuckled and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He still hunched over and held his head in his hands.

“This all your beats or some other people?” Gamzee asked. 

“Little bit ‘a both,” Dave said. He cleared the drive. 

There was only one folder on it and it said:  _ sbahj from 2012 _ . Didn’t need that any more, no thanks, burn it at the stake please. He copied over the folder labeled:  _ Clown Bops _ . Gamzee leaned over and looked at the screen while he did so. He snorted, probably at the name. Dave ejected the drive and handed it over to him. Gamzee took it with a little too much reverence. 

“You up and sure you want me to take this?” Gamzee asked, frowning and staring at the cherry red thumbdrive. “I mean, I usually lose this motherfucking shit second I’m done using it.”

Dave smirked and put his laptop in sleep again, “Nah, I got thumb drives up the fucking walls. One missing is nothing. Plus it’s for the sake of ill beats. Bro would get me a new one if I lost it for that.”

Gamzee dissolved into giggles again and rolled back onto the floor. He carefully placed the thumb drive into a side pocket in his duffel bag. He zipped it up and patted the pocket assuredly. Dave didn’t ask. He laid back down on the floor, too. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing familiar patterns with his eyes. 

“You mind if I smoke?” Gamzee asked. Dave rolled his head and looked over at him. Gamzee was sitting criss-cross next to his bag. A blunt and the rainbow lighter were already in his hands.

“Already told you, it’s chill, just not in my direction.”

Gamzee nodded and lit it up. He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke slowly. 

“Yo, Strider, there a reason you don’t smoke? Most people are all up in my motherfucking business to get their fix.”

Dave looked back up the ceiling. He had them memorized a long time ago, from staring up as Davis or Dirk patched him up from strifes. Not the time to be reminiscing about getting the shit beat out of him, though.

“Not really, just never my thing,” he said. He attempted to run his fingers through his hair, only to get caught on some tangles left from his sleep. “Bro’s a dealer, so it’s not like I don’t get the chance, but just… not my scene.”

“Fair,” Gamzee said. He made a mock  _ cheers _ gesture to the ceiling. “To each their motherfuckin own.”

Dave got up a few minutes later and turned on the sound system. He put his depression-chill playlist on. He left his room to get snacks from the kitchen. Davis was furiously playing some motion control dance game. He was not doing well. Dirk was in the kitchen, on the phone. He wasn’t saying anything, just humming and grunting in response to whoever was talking on the other line. Dave sneaked into the kitchen, over exaggerating his silence. He grabbed soda from the fridge, chips from the cabinets, and one of the baggies Dirk made the previous night. 

As he went to leave, Dirk hung up the phone and placed back on the little stand.

“Bro will be home early,” Dirk said. Dave stiffened instantly. He should have noticed Dirk was more rigid. “Said at least before Monday. Didn’t sound good.”   


Dave nodded and ran back to his room. It was only Saturday, he told himself. He had a day. Bro wouldn’t call on the day he would be showing back up at home. He didn’t know why the fuck Bro was coming back early, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he got in a fight or something and his mini tour got cut short. He attempted to calm himself before he kicked the door back open to his room.

Gamzee was back to laying on the floor, long legs stretched out. Dave closed the door behind him with his foot and tossed the chips and snacks onto the floor. Gamzee jolted and blinked up at Dave in surprise. Dave had never seen anyone actually blink like that. He ignored the panic about Bro coming back and Gamzee getting dragged into a strife. 

Fuck all of that, he thought. He and Gamzee were gonna lazy as they fucking could and watch YouTube shitposts and whatever the fuck else they could find. Gamzee was probably going to get high off his ass. Dave was going to have some gay panic. It was going to be fucking fine.  
  


The rest of the day came and went. They watched a long Let’s Play series on Gamzee’s laptop. Gamzee doodled and smoked, making sure to breathe it out in the opposite direction of Dave. Dave dicked around on his own laptop. He did the next-next SBaHJ update, and made sure to make it as melodramatic as possible. 

At one point, Davis barged into the room. He was being nosy. Dave yelled at him to fuck off when he started blocking the screen and making noise. Davis still fucked around for a few more minutes before leaving. Dave thought it almost felt like they were normal brothers. Dirk came in much later wearing one of the muscle aprons, and announced that he made lunch. He left, then came back again with scarily flawless grilled cheese sandwiches. Gamzee stared at the sandwich for a few moments in full awe.

It got dark as the series they were watching started to end. Gamzee long finished what he was smoking, and dunked the smoldering end in water before tossing it in the trash. He was all smiles, giggles, and dumb questions for the rest of the night. 

Dave felt it was a little weird, after having been around a lucid Gamzee, being around a high as fuck Gamzee. High as fuck Gamzee got more clumsy and touchy-feely. Not in the sense he was hugging Dave nonstop, but in the sense they bumped arms a lot more than they probably should have, and Dave was mostly sure some of the leg bumps were intentional. 

Gamzee was soon snoring like the last night, sprawled out and hair acting as a pseudo-pillow. Dave put back on a chill playlist and plugged Gamzee’s dying laptop in so it charged. He shut down his laptop, turned the lights off, and put the music player on a timer so it would turn off after he fell asleep. He climbed into his bed and buried himself in his blankets, belatedly remembering to put his shades on the end table. 

There was less panic than anticipated, which was great. Gamzee grunted and rolled over in his sleep. He got slightly caught up in his own shirt and it let his stomach peek out. Dave wanted to poke his side, for some reason. He was pretty sure he could see a rib or two. 

So much for no panic. Excellent job Dave, he told himself. He rolled onto his other side and pulled the blankets over his head. Problem for tomorrow Dave. He was only a fraction of the way there to being tomorrow Dave and he already hated himself for it. He still fell asleep despite not wanting to be tomorrow Dave any time soon. 

Tomorrow Dave was then woken up by phone ringing. He ignored it at first. It was coming from his room, so it was probably Gamzee’s. Gamzee would wake up soon and answer it. Gamzee continued to not wake up.

It’s fine, Dave thought. He’d wake up soon.

A minute passed. Gamzee snorted in his sleep, and Dave heard him roll over again. Phone kept ringing. 

Dave sat up and glared down. Gamzee was face down in the beanbag. He had kicked his phone in his sleep apparently and it was near the door now. Sometimes, Dave hated the light sleeping habits he was forced to have, because clearly Gamzee wasn’t getting up any time soon. 

Dave dragged himself out of his warm, comfy bed--a fact he would certainly bring up to Gamzee--and shuffled over to the bed. It was only five in the morning. What person was up at five beside Dirk? He didn’t bother trying to wake up Gamzee, and answered the phone.

“Hello? Gamzee’s phone?” he greeted. 

“ _ Who is this? _ ” a gruff, deep voice asked from the other line. 

“Dave? Friend of Gamzee. Who’s this?”

“ _ Tell Gamzee that there’s a family incident he needs to be here for. He has until 5:25 _ .”

The person hung up. Dave blinked and stared at the phone. The caller ID said:  _ Dad :o) _ .

Dave scooted over towards Gamzee and put the phone down. He debated how to wake him up, torn between blasting music, smacking his face until he woke up, or being considerate and shaking him awake. He didn’t have time to care too long after checking the clock. Gamzee would have fifteen minutes. Vigorous shaking and screeching it is.

Dave grabbed Gamzee’s side and shook him as hard as he could, shouting for him to wake up. He only had to do it for a short while, still two minutes off the time. Gamzee’s eyes popped open and stared at Dave with confusion. Dave stopped suddenly and completely. 

“Dad says something happened, leaving at 5:25,” Dave said. 

Gamzee blinked at him slowly, before scrambling away and to his feet. 

“Motherfuck,” Gamzee muttered. He grabbed some of his things and rushed out of the room faster than Dave had never seen him move. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Gamzee was out the door. Dave heard the bathroom’s door fly open and stood up. He walked out into the hall and looked down it at the bathroom. He could see Dirk in the living room, headphones on and completely oblivious to the world around him. He strolled down the hall towards the bathroom. Gamzee was finishing “brushing” his hair. It was actually ripping the brush through the curls with as much force as possible. 

Then he pulled paints out of a smaller baggie in the pile of things. It was the white and dark gray colors he always wore on his face. There were two brushes with the two containers, one thin and one broad. Gamzee unscrewed the white container and wet the brush with the tap water. 

“You need like help? Want me to get you b-fast for the road?” Dave asked. Gamzee was already putting the whites in place when he finished talking. 

“Ain’t no problem,” Gamzee said. He finished the whites with surprising speed and was moving onto the gray. “I’m used ta’ gettin’ ready mad fast.”

Dave nodded. He watched as Gamzee continued to do his face paint. He guessed the clown would have to be good at it with how often he did it, but it was still shocking. Gamzee was precise, to the point it was almost robotic, but Dave wasn’t one to judge. Habits were habits. 

Gamzee finished in only a few minutes, and rushed back to Dave’s room. Dave followed lazily behind him. Dirk was still undisturbed on the couch. Dave wondered what happened that Gamzee’s dad would need him out of there that quickly. Was it cult-mafia shit Dave didn’t want to know about? Did Kurloz get into a crash or something? Doubtful, but still a possibility. Did a pet die? Did Gamzee have pets? Did someone die?

All rational thought went flying out the window once those thoughts were had because Gamzee was struggling with putting on the sweatshirt he brought with him. Dave was not blushing from that, he told himself. They were both dudes and backs weren’t fucking sexy or anything like that. So what if Gamzee’s tan was unbroken even down his back, and what of the two back dimples? Dave didn’t know because that wasn’t what he was looking at. 

His reverie was broken as Gamzee managed to yank the hoodie into place. Dave thanked whatever god would listen that Gamzee had already changed his pants, because he wasn’t sure he could handle seeing legs or underwear. Gamzee crouched to toss all his shit back into the bag. Dave checked the time again. Five minutes until 5:25. Dave had never seen someone get ready so quickly, especially with the precision of the face paint done.

Gamzee finished picking up his things, popped a mint in his mouth, and took a breather

“Holy fuck, Gamzee,” Dave said. Gamzee looked up at him like he completely forgot he was there. “I have never seen you go so fast.”

“Gotta go fast,” Gamzee breathed. Dave cackled and Gamzee grinned. He was a little winded. He stood up and stretched, cracking his back. “Always in a fuckin’ rush in the Makara house. You up and get motherfucking used to it. Usually lose things though.”

Gamzee walked to the door, bag over his shoulder. The two of them walked towards the front door together, keeping their voices down. 

“What’s your record on face painting?” Dave asked. 

“Uh… a minute six or somethin’ like that,” Gamzee said, shrugging and rubbing the back of his neck. “Kurloz’s got forty seconds, and dad’s got everyone beat at thirty. Fucker’s real fast at that shit.”

Dave whistled. He stood to the side as Gamzee sat on the floor to get his shoes on. 

“Damn,” he said. “It takes me five minutes to get out of bed in the fucking morning.”

Gamzee chuckled. He tied up his fancy ass shoes, clashing awkwardly with the polka dot sweatpants he had on and the hoodie that looked like the logo of a Faygo bottle. 

“Ah, shit, you mind dragging my costume back to Maryam?” Gamzee said, standing back up. 

“No problem.” Dave nodded. “Rose will probably drop by to make sure I haven’t ruined them, and ‘ll take them to her.”

Gamzee’s phone went off again and he scrambled to dig it out of his pocket. He answered.

“Hiya, dad,” he said. He sounded more subdued. Dave refused to analyze any more of Gamzee’s behavior, though. “Yeah, all up and ready. Be down quick.”

Gamzee hung up and put the phone in his pocket. Dave was wrapped up in a hug before he knew what happened. His face was pressed to Gamzee’s chest, and Gamzee’s arms looped around his neck and shoulder. He stiffened as he tried to make sense of it all, and it was over before he could. He stared up at Gamzee--still not a vantage point he was used to. Gamzee looked a little worried, and pulled his hands back from Dave suddenly. 

“Uh…sorry. I’ll see ya later, man,” Gamzee said. 

“Sure,” Dave said. He was grasping at mental straws to keep his cool kid facade together. He doesn’t need to worry that his face felt hot, or that the hug was so warm it was nice. “Later.”

Gamzee grinned, obviously nervous, and left. Dave locked the door again behind him. 

Dave stood in the entrance area for a little too long. His mind does circles attempting to catch up. Dirk appeared at the end of that hall as he came back to himself. 

“Bro called again. He’s home later today.”

Dave took a moment to appreciate the timing of everything. He went back to his room, still jazzed about the hug, and kicked the beanbag back to its place on the edge of his room. As he did, he noticed the two paint containers on the floor, somehow under the edge of the beanbag, as well as the orange bottle of Gamzee’s medication.


	8. Pies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know nothing about baking or cooling times. partly because i prefer the food scalding hot

Dave spent a long time sitting on the floor, spaced out completely. He had stacked and unstacked the face paint containers, and handled the orange pill bottle carefully. He skimmed the label again. He felt like he was invading Gamzee’s privacy on so many levels, but he had to know. Daily dose, blah blah, the main point was Gamzee would be looking for the medication at night like he did the last two nights. 

Bro came home around six in the afternoon. Dave was still in his room, and he only faintly heard Bro marching off to his room. He looked around for a plastic bag and grabbed one of the few he kept next to his garbage bin. His room smelled like weed. Dave would like to avoid telling Bro why that was. He tossed the face-paint containers and the medication bottle in the plastic bag. He rolled up the straps and pushed the extra air out of it. He got dressed into more decent clothes, jeans and a pullover hoodie. He grabbed his phone and pulled up his and Gamzee’s conversation.

 

**Me:** hey you there

**Gamzee:** just so happens i am :o)

**Gamzee:** what can i motherfuckin help ya with bro?

**Me:** you forgot some stuff

**Gamzee:** Do:

**Gamzee:** motherfuck i thought i did but was all up and rushing

**Me:** its chill don’t worry

**Me:** i can bring it to you if you want?

**Gamzee:** that would be the sweetest of miracles

 

Gamzee sent him his address and Dave immediately put it in Google. He got the GPS set up, because he knew Bro would ask.

Dave took a few deep breaths. His mind was still, in an odd way that it hadn’t been in a long while. There was no flow of thoughts, not quite static, but just still. He pulled on some socks and prepped his poker face. He opened the window in his room and then walked out into the main room. 

Bro was at the counter, having a near silent conversation with Dirk. Davis was on the couch, absently flicking through the game on the console. He and Dave never were able to understand Bro and Dirk’s conversations when they got like that. Dirk was a little older, and somehow it let him understand the microscopic cues Bro gave instead of words. 

Dave walked over to the kitchen area. Both immediately stopped and waited for him to say something. This would go on forever if he didn’t say anything. 

“My friend left some of his shit here,” Dave said. He lifted the bag and shook it a little. Bro looked at the bag then at him again. “Can you drive me to his place so I can give it back?” 

“You had a friend over?” Bro asked, tapping his fingers on the counter. 

“School project.”

“Do I know him?”

“Probably not.” 

“Know where he lives?”

“GPS already set.”

Bro looked at him silently for a few seconds before nodding. He went back towards his room and Dirk went back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen. Dave rolled his shoulders and went to the entrance way. He put his shoes on and waited for Bro.

The older Strider walked to the door, spinning his keys on his finger like a normal dad. Bro slid his shoes on without touching the laces. Dave doesn’t respond or react outwardly. He just waited for Bro to push the door open and head to the elevator. Dave followed despite how his stomach twisted at even being in the elevator with Bro. 

Time drew out slowly. Dave listened to the elevator work and each floor ding as they went down. Bro didn’t try to say anything. The air was too heavy for Dave. 

They hit the bottom floor and the elevator doors slid open. Bro led the way out of the building. The sun was well on the decline and there were still a lot of cars on the road. They walked around the corner to the parking lot for people living in the building. Dave debated sitting in the back seats over the front, but Bro made the decision for him. He unlocked the passenger side door before walking over to the driver’s side.

Dave climbed in and Bro did the same soon after. He started up the car and changed the CD in the player before going to back out of the lot. Dave took his phone out and turned up the volume for the GPS. He sent Gamzee a short message about being on his way. Gamzee responded with his clown smiley face almost immediately. Dave smirked slightly and put his phone down. He looked out the window pointedly. 

“Dirk said you had your friend over since Friday,” Bro said. Dave stiffened. He didn’t expect to keep it a secret, but Bro asking things still put him on edge. “Do I have to give you a talk?”

“About?” Dave asked nervously. 

“The talk.”

Dave choked on his own spit and coughed until his throat cleared. Bro glanced over at him with a smug smirk.

“Fuck no,” Dave wheezed. Bro nodded. 

The GPS blabbed about turns to take and soon they were on their way to a pretty upscale side of the town. Dave stayed quiet the rest of the ride, and Bro didn’t try to get him to talk any more. 

They passed an empty guard house and entered an even more expensive looking neighborhood. Big houses, big yards, shiny cars, and neat sidewalks. He stared at the houses as they got more impressive further along, and the GPS announced they were a turn away from their destination. Dave double checked the address, and even Bro looked a little confused. Dave looked the house over. It was easily the most expensive looking one in the area. 

Three floors, easily, with large windows and tall roofs. Vaguely Victorian style, with dark walls and light accents. Dave was ready to text Gamzee to ask if he got the address right, when he noticed Kurloz’s car in the driveway.

“You got it right?” Bro asked. 

“That’s his brother’s car,” Dave said, nodding to the vehicle. He turned back around in his seat and popped the door open. 

“Rich kid, huh,” Bro mumbled. 

Dave didn’t respond and slipped out of the car. He closed the door and hurried around the front of the car. He stepped onto the paved path to the front door and tried not to feel out of place. He failed. He had seen a few people glance at their car as they drove in. No wonder. 

He stepped up the stairs. They didn’t even creak loudly under him. He hesitated at the door and rung the doorbell. There were a few seconds where Dave was terrified that he somehow got the wrong house, again. No, he told himself. Kurloz’s car was here, and Gamzee wouldn’t mess up his own address when he lived in a place like this. 

As Dave considered flash stepping back to the car, and bolting, the door swung open. 

Gamzee greeted him with a big dopey grin. He had a purple button down on, black dress pants and a different pair of dress shoes. He didn’t have his face paint on. He still smelled like weed, but there was a prominent apple scent. Pie?

“Hey, man,” Gamzee said. He looked down the walk to the street where Dave’s objectively shit car sat. “That your guardian?”

“Uh, yeah, he just drove me down here to deliver this,” Dave said, patting his hoodie pockets only to realize he left it in the car. “Shit, one second?"

Gamzee laughed, “All good. While your over there, ask him if you can come in a sec. I’d love ta have ya meet my dad. And I just finished up some pie if you want a bite.”

Dave nodded without really processing it. He jogged back to the car. Bro rolled down the window to hand him the bag. He gave the go ahead for Dave to stay a bit, saying he needed to grab something in town anyway. As Dave walked back, parts of it sunk in. Gamzee invited him into his house for pie and to meet his dad. That was some next level friendship shit, right? Dave wasn’t entirely versed in these kinds of interaction. The fact he was even being let in the house was a bit out of his reach. It looked like it cost more than his, Davis’s, and Dirk’s college education put together. 

Gamzee brightened when he saw Bro’s car pulling away and was basically bouncing when Dave got back to him. 

“Can’t stay,” Dave said. Gamzee blinked at him and smiled incredulously. 

“Then how you gon’ get home? Grow some motherfucking wings?” Gamzee giggled. Dave shrugged. He smiled faintly and stepped inside at Gamzee’s insistence.

Inside looked just as expensive. Shiny hardwood floors, clean painted walls with some art pieces, and a mirror near the door. There was a coat closet Dave glanced inside as he stepped further along. He habitually kicked his shoes off, and Gamzee told him he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. One shoe was already off at that point, so Dave just pushed the other off. 

Gamzee led the way down the entrance hall to a main center room. There was an enormous television set with a sound system to rival the Striders’. A cabinet of DVDs sat next to it, cased in glass. Two of the large windows were covered with heavy looking curtains. A plush rug that looked beyond soft covered the living room space. Dave didn’t test the softness, just followed Gamzee.

They passed the entrance to the dining room being cleaned by two people who Dave could only pinpoint as cleaning staff. Gamzee directed him into the kitchen and it was like an angel farted.

It smelled amazing. Dave didn’t have too many bakery smell based experiences, but this one blew the others from John’s place out of the water. There were bowls and ingredients set out on the island counter, and a pie sitting on a cooling rack. Apple pie, he guessed. The apples on the counter might have influenced that a bit. 

“Second one’s comin’ out any minute now if ya wanna get comfy,” Gamzee said. He pulled a basic white on and checked the oven. 

Dave nodded to no one and sat on one of the bar stools. The tiling was sleek black and white. The kitchen had a vintage feel to it, like it was out of an old house catalogue. The countertops were white marble, and the bodies were dark wood

“Didn’t know you baked,” Dave said. He didn’t want to deal with more silence. 

“Doesn’t come up to often, and most fucks think I only make weed brownies or some shit,” Gamzee hummed, standing up from his crouch. Dave snorted. Gamzee turned to Dave and leaned across the counter with mock seriousness on his face. Dave raised an eyebrow over his shades, unable to stop the smirk on his face. “But nah, motherfucker, I only make the sweetest of fucking miracles. This ain’t no amatuer baking show you see on fucking food network. I make good shit.”

“So my nose tells me,” Dave said. Gamzee grinned and giggled. 

“Well the first miracle should almost be chill enough to bite into,” Gamzee said. He turned back around and tested the pie sitting on the cooling rack. He hummed slightly as he lifted the pie and put it on the island counter. He grabbed a large knife and started cutting out a slice. He placed it on a small plate that was already set out and slid it to Dave, along with a fork.

Gamzee watched as Dave cut off a bite. Dave stopped, but Gamzee waved for him to continue. Dave sighed and shrugged. He popped the piece of pie into his mouth. He froze and then took a bigger bite.

“If I was struck down by some god right fucking now, like genuine smiting for shit like jaywalking,” Dave said through a mouthful. “I would die happy.”

Gamzee smiled broader than Dave had ever seen before. 

“Aw shit, man,” Gamzee laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked off to the side.

“Fucking eviscerate me.”

Gamzee turned back around as the oven buzzed, still smiling. He pulled gloves on and took the second pie out. He placed it on the cooling rack and turned off the oven. He put the gloves next to the rack and grabbed another plate and fork. He got his own slice.

Dave listened as Gamzee talked about the first time he made a pie and almost set their old kitchen on fire. Gamzee went on with a few other stories of baking relating mishaps, then asked if Dave ever tried cooking or baking. Dave said he only knew how to microwave things. Gamzee gave him a mixed look that Dave couldn’t read, and shrugged. He filled the silence so it didn’t get awkward. Stories of him and Kurloz fucking around in the kitchen and getting shit for it. The time he went down the staircase in his old house on a mattress and pillow armor. Dave told him about the time he, Dirk, and Davis tried sliding all the way down the staircase railing in their building. He left out any Bro-related details in the aftermath. 

They both had a laugh of their own childhood, stair-related incidents. Dave made a mental note to send him the SBaHJ website. 

During a lull in their stories, footsteps came from the direction opposite where they entered. In came Gamzee’s father. Dave vaguely remembered him from the principal’s office what seemed like years ago. Taller than anyone Dave had ever met, broad and intimidating. Long black hair, curly like his sons’ but even wilder. He had face paint on. It was a bit nightmarish. Dave didn’t think it was bad, though. Man had an aesthetic and he was sticking to it. Dave respected that. He had on clothes pretty much exactly like Gamzee’s, and a mug in his hand. 

“Hi dad!” Gamzee said. “Second miracle ‘s on the cooling, but first is all up for bites.”

Gamzee’s dad glanced at the cooling pie and then the one in between Gamzee and Dave.

“You two take that one, I’ll have the second when it cools,” he said. His deep was somehow deeper than Dave remembered. He sat on another one of the stools, a few away from Dave. “You must be Dave Strider.”

“Uh, yes, sir,” Dave said. He had never met a parent he genuinely cared about impressing. Gamzee seemed to really value his dad’s opinion and Dave didn’t want to lose a friend because he was shit at first impressions. 

Gamzee’s dad snorted, taking a sip from his mug. Gamzee looked at Dave in confusion.

“You don’t gotta up and call me that, kid,” he said. “Ain’t no fucking interview.”

“Okay, Mr. Makara,” Dave said. Gamzee’s dad gave him another funny look, but didn’t push it. 

There was a few moments of awkward silence, and Gamzee quickly filled it again with another story. 

Time went by quickly. Gamzee’s dad left soon after, taking the whole second pie with him despite Gamzee saying to leave some for Kurloz. Gamzee got out some tupperware and helped Dave pack a few slices. He scribbled reheating instructions on a sticky-note and said he trusted Dave’s microwaving skills would serve him well. 

Gamzee walked back with him to the door. 

“My dad likes you, by the way,” Gamzee said as Dave pulled his shoes on. Dave looked up at him with a doubtful look. 

“I said two things to him.”

“He’s a good judge of character. And I already told him lots about ya.” 

Dave shrugged awkwardly. He stood up and his pocket crinkled. He pulled the bag out and stared at it. Gamzee did the same and they both laughed. 

“Fuck, that would’ve been shitty of me to eat your pie and forget this,” Dave said. Gamzee grinned and took the bag when Dave held it out. 

Gamzee opened the bag and looked inside. He stopped. Dave stood with both his shoes on. He grabbed his tupperware. Gamzee was still staring at the bag. Dave snapped his fingers a few times in front of Gamzee’s face. It snapped him out of it. 

Gamzee blinked at Dave with a completely blank face. 

“Yo, are you okay with like… hugs and shit?” Gamzee asked. “You looked freaked out last time.”

“Uh… yeah I guess,” Dave said. “Just caught me off guard. It’s chill just warning first.”

“So can I like hug you now?” Gamzee asked. 

“Sure?” 

Gamzee put the bag down on the table and waited for Dave’s pie slices to be safe on the table, too. Dave braced himself and Gamzee wrapped him in a hug. Dave turned his head to the side so his shades weren’t squished awkwardly. Gamzee was warm and smelled more like the baking than the weed now. 

“You’re all up and motherfucking miraculous, man,” Gamzee said.

Dave pointedly ignored the warm feeling in his stomach and chest. He didn’t hug back, but Gamzee didn’t seem to take it too personally. Gamzee let him go and stepped back. He handed him the tupperware and Dave took it. 

“Most people get up and spooked by the meds,” Gamzee said. He had shy smile now. “Big help. Gettin’ replacements of that stuff is all kind of fuckin’ difficulty.”

“I can guess,” Dave shrugged. “Antidepressants are hard enough to get, can’t imagine heavy duty shit.” 

Gamzee thanked him a few more times before he opened the door for Dave. Bro pulled up a few seconds later. Dave punched him in the shoulder good-heartedly and walked back to the car. He heard Gamzee close the door only once he got to the car. He wanted to roll his eyes and smirk, but Bro would ask more questions then he already wanted to. 


	9. Goat Facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did this instead of starting a new original work. i think it was worth it

Dave hated when the cold weather really started to set in. He had to wear socks everywhere in the apartment because Bro refused to put up the heat any more than absolutely necessary. His coats were old with patches to keep the insulating stuff inside, and didn’t fit him right. He might get to put all the sweatshirts he had to use, but he didn’t think it was worth it when the rest of him was freezing.

Rose made him a scarf a few years back. It was purple and black, knitted somewhat messily since she hadn’t been at it too long, but he loved it. Rose cringed whenever she saw it and mentioned making him a new one. She never did.

Outside Halloween, the good part about temperatures dropping was Thanksgiving and Christmas at the Lalondes’. Miss Lalonde learned back when they were in elementary school that Dave, Davis, and Dirk never had proper holidays. She grabbed on tight and didn’t let go. She made sure the three of them were welcome at every celebration in their expansive house. She got them gifts--less than she got her daughters, but still a lot--and made sure to have enough leftovers on Thanksgiving to last them until the next time she saw them.

It was fun, despite how much Rose resented her mother’s eccentricities. One year, just when Davis got out of the hospital, Rose had been complaining again and Davis offered her to trade. Rose wasn’t and would never be an idiot. She had seen the bandages, the crutches, and noticed the aversion to talking about Bro not being there that year. Dave hadn’t seen her complain since but she could still be doing it when he wasn’t around. Bro didn’t come for any of the following years, and Miss Lalonde had been worried she did something wrong. Dave assured her Bro was just like that sometimes. She still gave them gifts to send along to Bro on Christmas.

As Thanksgiving approached, Dave wondered if they’d still be going, though. It was the first year Rose and Kanaya’s relationship was as serious as it was. He had a feeling Rose might be going over to the Maryam house. He was really just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dave was right.

Rose found him before classes started. It was a week before Thanksgiving, and Dave had noticed Rose avoidance of the topic. The fact she was walking into his homeroom with ten minutes to spare told him all he needed to know.

Dave was one of the few in the room waiting for their teacher to stride in and read off announcements. Rose walked in through the open door after peeking inside to see if Dave was there at all. She went down the aisle of desks and Dave put his phone down as she got close. She had a vaguely nervous look on her face, which on her meant she was freaking out. She sat in Gamzee’s seat and tapped the desk with manicured, black nails.

“G’morning,” Dave said, first.

“Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morn--” Rose started. A small smile formed on her lips as she went. Dave held out a hand and stopped her.

“You only quote Tolkien when you’re stalling,” Dave said. Rose huffed and tapped the desk a few times again. She looked off to the side.

“Well he’s quite good at it. Have you read his descriptions of wildlife?”

“Only seen the movies.”

“Tragedy, remind me to pressure you into that at some point.”

“Never. Now what’s up?”

Rose sighed again. She bounced her foot before taking a deep breath and looking back at Dave.

“I’m going to the Maryam’s for Thanksgiving this year,” Rose began. “And probably Christmas. Kanaya and I decided we test the strength of our relationship through the family gauntlet.”

“I thought Kanaya was Jewish?” Dave asked.

“She is. We’re going to be doing a bit of a culture blend,” Rose said. She gestured with her hands vaguely. “It’s also a test to see if our families really like each other or just tolerate the other for the sake of us.”

Dave nodded and let Rose continue.

“But yes, I take you realize that it means you can’t come to our house for the holidays unless you plan on breaking in and taking our old food. I’m sorry about this, after I bothered you about your brothers being in town, too.”

“It’s chill,” Dave said with a shrug. He could try cooking. He always said he was going to at some point. Maybe a three course meal wouldn’t be the best place to start but go big or go home he guessed. “Davis and Dirk are already in town, so we’ll manage.”

“They are?"

“Yeah came in a little bit before Halloween. But we’ll be fine, Rose, don’t worry so much about us. Go test your families with Kanaya. Don’t forget the control or whatever.”

“It’s a miracle Karkat gets you ‘A’s in science,” Rose chuckled. She stood and fixed the warm, faux fur-lined jacket she was wearing. “I have to worry, Dave. I know it’s not my place, but Bro--”

“If you know it’s not your place, then why are you stomping on in like it is?” Dave asked.

Bro had not so subtly been curious about Gamzee for the rest of the weekend, and Dave wanted to not think about him for a little bit. It hadn’t helped that Dave was adamant about no one else eating his left over pie.

Rose pursed her lips and nodded, “Sorry. I’ll see you at lunch, then. Mother will send a holiday care package if you need, though.”

Dave snorted and they said their temporary goodbyes. Rose walked out of the room as more of his homeroom mates filed in. Dave went back to reading the comments on SBaHJ’s new update. Stair jokes, some attempts at analysis, and the usual memes. Just the way he liked it.

Gamzee stumbled in a minute before the teacher did. He rushed to his seat and almost fell out with how much force he landed with. He had on heavy looking boots, a big plush purple coat, and warm looking clothes under it. He smiled at Dave once he was sitting properly and Dave smirked at him.

The teacher came in, did his spiel, and dismissed them all. Lack of announcements let them out three minutes before the next class started. Dave didn’t want to get up, so he stayed there for a little bit. He tried not to mull over spending holidays with Bro for the first time in… how long? Whatever the time period was, he failed.

“Dude, where’s your motherfucking coat at?” Gamzee asked, leaning towards him.

Dave looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He gestured to his coat. He’d admit it wasn’t much, but it kept him warmer than an icicle. Gamzee frowned at him and he and Dave stared at each other for a few beats. Dave looked for the scars through the facepaint, just to see if he even could. They were faint, but there. A person wouldn’t notice if they weren’t looking for it.

“That’s your coat?” Gamzee asked.

“Yeah?”

Gamzee didn’t say anything else. He looked deep in thought. Dave stood up and started to head to his next class. Gamzee rushed after him, mumbling about his class being on the top floor. Dave wished him luck on the stairs. Gamzee paused before smiling and flipping him off before making a mad dash for the stairs.

Dave headed to his first class, one of the few he had without any of his friends, but also one he didn’t have to pay attention to. Latin was easy. It was just words.

Dave was going through the motions all day. He joked with Egbert at Karkat’s expense, he listened when Karkat explained chemistry, he laughed with Jade and John in English, he dicked around at lunch, and did homework in his free.

History came up, and so did their presentation. He grabbed the stuff from his locker before heading to the class, and Gamzee joined him in the hallway on the way there. The teacher was eager when she saw their board, hand written with a few pictures here and there. They did their presentation, blabbing about a Pope alive a few centuries ago. Gamzee recited information almost word for word from their notes, glancing at the board often. When Dave talked, he made sure to slide in as many subtle jokes as he could. At least one person got every one of them, even if it was just one of the quiet kids eyes opening a little wider and smirking.

Dave thought of how the hell he was going to go through winter break, with no actual holiday-related shit, every second that he could spare the brain power. When he and Gamzee grabbed their stuff to head out to Gamzee’s car so Dave could get home, Dave was deep in said thoughts. So deep he didn’t even know how much time he spent staring off into space “listening” to Gamzee talking while he was grabbing stuff out of his locker. Gamzee had a bottom locker, which sucked because he had to sit down to use it properly.

Dave came out of his thoughts when he realized Gamzee actually hadn’t been talking for awhile and jolted physically, like someone pinched him. He looked down and Gamzee was resting his chin on his hand and staring up at him.

“How long has it been since you stopped talking?” Dave asked shyly.

“Two minutes, about,” Gamzee said.

Dave bit his bottom lip and reached up to scratch the side of his neck.

“You even remember what I was sayin’?” Gamzee asked.

“... Something about school?” Gamzee shook his head. “Karkles?” Another head shake. Dave felt like an absolute piece of shit. “Sorry, I uh… I wasn’t listening.”

“I figured,” Gamzee said. He scooted back from his closed locker--when did that happen--and leaned back on his palms. “I was talkin’ about goats.” Dave stared at him. “They have accents, y’know.”

“I didn’t know.”

Gamzee smiled and nodded, “Most people don’t but goats are cool, man.”

He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders and started towards the front doors. Dave followed after him. He felt even worse. Gamzee was trying to tell him something he thought was cool, what kind of dick just ignores their friend’s interests even if it is goats?!

“You’re all gettin’ your worry on, huh?” Gamzee asked. Dave jolted again, expecting to be ignored all the way to the apartment. Gamzee smiled at him. “I was just messin’ with ya. I ain’t upset you weren’t all listening to my mad rambles. I started talkin’ goats to see how out of it you were.”

It didn’t put the worries away in the slightest, but it was somewhat comforting. Dave still felt like shit.

“Sorry, though,” Dave sighed. They stepped outside. The cold immediately bit at Dave’s face and he sped up a bit to get to the car quicker. Gamzee did the same.

“Don’t be, man,” Gamzee said. He pulled the door open and climbed in. Dave hopped in next and closed the door as quick as he could without getting stuck. The driver was in the front seat, as usual, but the car was different and had a divider between the back and front. “But if you wanna hear my goat facts, I am all up and willin’ to share.”

Dave glanced over and Gamzee was grinning. He was joking, obviously. Teasing. Dave would tease back, but wow, he thought, he really felt shitty about this. Gamzee noticed and Dave wrote a mental reminder to check his poker face around the clown.

“There’s somethin’ else up and worryin’ ya, huh,” Gamzee said. It wasn’t a question. Dave looked down at his lap and debated pulling his phone out or looking out the window. Gamzee was still looking at him, though, worry all over his face.

Goddammit, Dave thought. Gamzee shouldn’t have to worry about him. Dave shouldn’t even be that way about the holidays, it wasn’t a big deal! It wasn’t like he was even coming up with other options!

“If you wanna talk, I’ll listen,” Gamzee offered. “But I give shitty advice. Karkat’ll up and tell you that shit. Or if you want comfort food, I can make more pie? Apple was good right? I do take requests.”

“Don’t worry,” Dave said. His throat felt tight at the prospect of Gamzee going out of his way for him. “I’m fine, just thinking about shit. Holidays and all.”

Gamzee pouted. Dave knew he was a shitty liar when cornered like this. He glanced out the window. Almost to the apartment. He could stall. It was a specialty of his. Gamzee interrupted him before he started. He reached over and pressed his upper arm to Dave’s forehead. Dave blanked. Gamzee held his arm there for a few seconds before pulling it back and putting both hands on Dave’s cheeks. Dave was forced a bit to turn his head to the clown as Gamzee held his face. Gamzee’s eyebrows were drawn together and he was still pouting. Dave could feel faint calluses on Gamzee’s hands. They were warm, big palms and long fingers. Dave knew his face was going at least a little red. He wasn’t much of a blusher, but he was pale and it was cold. His skin was susceptible to going red. As Gamzee pulled away, Dave stayed stock still, aware of every inch of his being.

“You ain’t sick…” Gamzee muttered. “You sure it’s just stress?”

“Yeah.”

They drove up to the apartment. Dave didn’t say anything as they got out of the car and went up the stairs. Gamzee didn’t try to start conversation. At the door, Gamzee lingered. He played with his hands and messed with some of his longer curls.

Eventually, Gamzee asked if it was okay if he gave Dave another hug. Dave accepted before he realized he was doing it. Gamzee let Dave initiate it this time, waiting with his arms out for Dave to step in first. Dave did, stepping up and wrapping his arms around Gamzee’s middle. Gamzee brought his arms down around him. He was warm, and Dave barely resisted sticking his fingers under his shirt to sap the heat from his back just to be a shit. It was… nice.

Gamzee patted his back and Dave worried he let the hug go on too long. He tried not to blame himself when Gamzee’s hugs were the best thing he’d experienced in a long time. He failed.

“Hope you feel better, Dave,” Gamzee said, smiling in a way Dave told himself wasn’t adorable, but it was. “And that whatever shit ‘s all botherin’ you sorts itself out. If you need some chill place, or whatever, feel free to come over.”

“Oh, thanks, man…” Dave said. He trailed off awkwardly and rubbed his arms. He really should get a bigger coat, he thought. If he could convince Bro without it leading to a strife and him being a ‘wimp’.

Gamzee smiled again, broad and all teeth. The scars really were barely noticeable under the paint. If Dave hadn’t seen his dad and brother with face pain like it, he’d think that was why Gamzee painted his face. Dave unlocked the apartment door and Gamzee wished him a good night. Dave stepped inside and kicked off his shoes.

It was barely warmer in the apartment, so he kept his coat on. He went right to his room. Davis was in there, as he had usually been since Bro came back. Davis was sitting in front of the window. He glanced over his shoulder as Dave walked in and put his bag down. Dave took his laptop out and sat on his bed. He ignored the remnant warm feelings still stirring in his chest and head. He opened his laptop up and plugged it in. He got comfortable against his pillows and opened up his music program.

“You remember when we tried to keep a pet bird?” Davis asked. Dave looked over at his twin.

“Yeah, it shit all over the place and went for the eyes,” Dave said. Davis snorted. “It’s why we keep the window closed.”

“Pet bird would still be badass, though.”

“Maybe.”

They went quiet for a little while and Dave started a new project. He stared at the blank page and tried to think how to start. Carnival music, first, probably. He opened Google and looked up some carnival tunes for inspiration.

“By the way, holidays at Lalondes’ is cancelled,” Dave said. “They’re spending it with Maryams.”

“Maryams?” Davis asked. He hopped off the dresser he was sitting on and walked over to the futon Dave set out for him. “Who the hell is that?”

“Kanaya.” Davis still looked confused. “Kanaya Maryam? Rose’s girlfriend?”

“Oh,” Davis said. “Vampire goth.”

“... Yes, her.”

“Eh, that makes sense. Gonna miss Miss Lalonde’s cooking, though.”

Davis grabbed his phone and rolled over. Dave pulled his headphones on and played some compilations.

It got late quick, and Dave at least had the base work down for the new project. Davis was passed out. Dave put his laptop under his bed, and walked to the kitchen for something before going to sleep. He grabbed his phone from his bag and checked the notifications from when he accidentally left it there.

Rose apologized again, John sent him an instagram meme that looked like a soccer-mom made it, and Karkat sent him a picture of Kankri and someone cuddling on the couch captioned “TOTALLY NOT BOYFRIENDS.” Dave told Rose not to worry again and added a counter for how many times he did, told John was such a 2010 memer, and Karkat that he should made a powerpoint with all the evidence he had.

There was also a message from Gamzee. Dave decided to reheat the last slice of pie he had for dinner. He pulled the box open and grabbed a paper plate from the cabinets. He belatedly realized he didn’t check for Bro. He did so then, and found nothing. With a sigh, he counted his blessings and set about reheating the pie, now aware of every noise and shift in the air. He placed the pie now on the plate in the microwave.

He opened Gamzee’s conversation while the machine whirred.

 

 **Gamzee:** motherfuck i forgot to ask you somethin bro :o)

 **Gamzee:** my dad was up and adamant about me extending the offer of dinner on thanksgiving

 **Gamzee:** don’t worry about imposing or anything it’s just me my dad and kurloz every year, and it’ll be nice to have some other people there

 **Gamzee:** know you usually go to lalondes’ but i’ll bake some pie if that’ll convince ya ;o)

 

Dave never thought there would be a day he found a winky face with a nose endearing. Yet here he stood, at night in the kitchen with apple pie in the microwave, texting a clown and feeling cuddly and warm inside. His self esteem stopped him from accepting.

 

 **Me:** you sure that would be okay?

 

Gamzee responded almost immediately.

 

 **Gamzee:** yeah man! be all motherfucking honored and shit to have you :oD

 **Gamzee:** you can bring your brothers too. know there’s a lot of ya, but if you want they can come too, ain’t no issue

 

Dave felt nauseous at the idea of Bro and Gamzee’s dad meeting.

 

 **Me:** i’ll ask if they wanna come but bro isn’t a holiday guy

 **Gamzee:** i was talkin’ bout other dave and dirk more but whoever you want :o)

 **Me:** obama then

 **Gamzee:** if you can up and convince the man ain’t no problem

 **Gamzee:** we’ll roll the red motherfuckin carpet out

 

Dave smirked. The microwave went off and he grabbed his pie.

 

 **Me:** i’ll ask The Siblings but no promises striders aren’t social folk

 **Gamzee:** lmao neither are Makaras should all be grateful we’re letting you in to the kingdom

 **Me:** i shall thank the clown gods with a proper sacrifice

 **Me:** faygo shall be drunk in ritual

 **Gamzee:** :o)

 **Gamzee:** it’d be real nice ta have ya there anyway

 **Me:** gonna make me swoon like the southern belle i am clown boy

 **Gamzee:** heh ;o) all part of the motherfucking charm

 

Dave didn’t respond and walked back to his room. The warm and cuddly feeling was well set in now. He closed the door and went and sat down on his bed. He curled his legs up under the blankets.

 

 **Me:** now tell me these goat facts i missed out on

 **Gamzee:** :oD

 **Gamzee:** they have four stomachs! like a fuckin sorting system for eats

 **Me:** really?

 **Gamzee:** yeah! and they don’t got upper teeth, just like a pad

 **Me:** no fucking way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went a little overboard with clown emojis but eh
> 
> edit: minor fixes and changes


	10. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short transitional chapter so I don't have to break up the whole dinner stuff I have set up. mostly dave thinking and more stuff from his childhood. some davis. also text messages. less clown emojis,,,,,, for now

Davis and Dirk were invited to the Egbert-Harley house once word spread that Lalondes’ were busy for the holiday season. Dave was included in the invite. Bro wasn’t, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Jade had called and told him that they were invited. Dave passed along the message. He left out that Jade mentioned her cousin Jake coming along. He knew what he was doing. But it wasn’t his problem any more. 

Bro was quiet about the whole situation. Not like his silence was unusual. He still would have said something about it all. He was also absent from sight most of the time. Also not unusual, but he never was that absent. 

In the meanwhile, Dave was worrying. 

When he first went to the Lalondes’ for Thanksgiving, he was six years old. He barely knew how to read, and you could count his ribs through his skin on his sides and his vertebrae through his back. He had no manners and that was saying something. His only friends were Dirk and Davis, and most of the time they never used actual words. He was unprepared for being at the table, eating a full meal for the first time since he got off milk as a baby, and talking to people he hadn’t been with all his life. 

Dave was ten when he first visited John’s house. He was a little less skinny, but just as bony. His clothes didn’t fit him right, hand-me-downs from Dirk who got hand-me-downs from Bro. The hems were all ripped or frayed and the cuts from strifes were closed up with Dirk’s self taught stitching. He had been covered in Band-Aids with plenty bruises he passed off as falling a lot. His manners were picked up from Rose now and it made him seem just less than normal. It was better, though. It was different from the Lalondes’.

Karkat’s was also different from both. Dave was thirteen. He had gotten his new shades and new shoes. Bro was forced to get them because the last pair of shoes he had were so worn the soles fell off and no duct tape could fix it. Karkat’s dad was insistent on learning about him, hearing stories from him, and making sure he was welcome. It was one of the first times Dave was well and truly out of words. Mister Vantas backed off when he noticed Dave’s awkwardness.

It was Dave’s trifecta of parental first impressions. 

Miss Lalonde’s meeting was a trainwreck in hindsight, but he was a snot-nosed kid that stood on chairs; he didn’t let it bother him too much. Mister Egbert was the kindest man Dave ever knew and probably would know; they said brief hellos and generally the man stayed out of John and Dave’s friend time. Mister Vantas was pushy, a bit loud, but with good intentions; he knew where the line was drawn and stayed out of it.

Dave didn’t count his few minute “conversation” with Mister Makara. Thanksgiving was a hell of a way to start. In the week leading up, Dave was going over scenarios. He didn’t have reason to be nervous. Gamzee said his dad liked Dave and implied Gamzee talked about Dave to him. That would mean initial reputation wasn’t horrible or nonexistent. Gamzee’s dad was also some kind of high-up business man, no matter how shady it was. Business man meant meetings. Meetings meant manners. 

Gamzee walked Dave to his fucking apartment door for fuck’s sake! Makaras knew manners and etiquette. Dave was in way over his head.

 

**Me:** do i need to like

**Me:** bring a gift?

**Karkat:** STRIDER I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING TEACHER

**Karkat:** JUST ASK GAMZEE 

**Karkat:** HE DOESN’T MIND YOU ASKING SHIT. HE INVITED YOU TO FUCKING THANKSGIVING. NOT KNOWING ETIQUETTE ISN’T GOING TO MAKING HIM 

**Karkat:** HATE YOU OR SOME SHIT

**Karkat:** HE KNOWS PEOPLE DON’T HAVE HIS FUCKING MANNERS EDUCATION OR WHATEVER THE FUCK

 

Dave asked Gamzee if he had to bring a gift while they were in art. They were painting now, and Gamzee was having a lot of fun. Dave stuck to what the teacher told them, but Gamzee was going nuts with colors. 

Gamzee told him that it was neither needed nor expected of him to bring anything. Gamzee’s treat, or something like that. Dave still felt awkward about it all. Gamzee assured him again outside the apartment that they really weren’t expecting him to do anything but show up. 

Dave didn’t tell Bro until the Wednesday before. He had the base carnival set up for his new project, Davis was attempting to cook dinner, and Dirk was on his phone. Bro walked in once Davis called out that food was done. It was reheated McDonalds arranged in a circle. The four of them sat down and ate in silence. It wasn’t quite awkward or tense. Somewhere in between. 

Dirk started conversation by reminding Bro he and Davis were going to be at the Egbert-Harley Thanksgiving. Bro nodded and said that they shouldn’t worry about smuggling him any food out. Dave took the topic and decided to roll with it. That way, he might get an actual ride there instead of walking or taking the bus.

“Gamzee invited me over, so I’m spending tomorrow with… him and his family,” Dave said quickly. Rip the bandage off. Or whatever they said. 

Bro turned his head to look at him and Dave acted like he wasn’t panicking under his skin. 

“Rich kid with the pie?” Bro asked. 

“Yeah, he uh… he said you could come if you wanted,” Dave said. 

“Nah, I’ll stop by, but I got my eyes set on takeout,” Bro shrugged. Tons of pressure were lifted from Dave’s chest. 

Bro asked when he had to be there. Dave told him four o’clock, like Gamzee told him earlier. Bro said they’d leave at three tomorrow because they had to drop Dirk and Davis off, too. Dave nodded along. Davis put his plate in the sink and vanished back to Dave’s room. Dave was quick to do the same. Dirk had taken time to organize the order he ate the reheated nuggets, so he’d have to sit with Bro alone. He chose his own fate. 

Dave rushed to his room. Davis was in a blanket tent with the light from his phone shining through the fabric. Dave didn’t disturb him. He grabbed his phone off the end table and texted Gamzee.

 

**Me:** all set for tomorrow

**Me:** bro said he would be there for a little but isnt gonna stay long

**Gamzee:** :o) miraculous motherfucker

**Me:** you sure i dont need to bring something

**Gamzee:** very motherfucking sure, strider. don’t go and get your worry on about it

**Me:** i will continue to worry but okay

**Me:** see you tomorrow? i guess

**Gamzee:** see ya then man :oD

 

Dave smiled to himself at his phone and clicked it off. He put it down on the table again and pulled his laptop out to work on the project some more. He had a proper deadline and wasn’t going to let himself miss it. He avoided thinking of impressing Gamzee’s dad, or his brother, or whatever family member that might be around tomorrow. He focused on the music and arranging the new sounds he wanted to add on.

Dirk came in much later. He said to Davis when they’d be leaving and such. Davis stuck a thumbs out of his blanket tent and Dirk left.

It was even later when Dave put his laptop stuff away. Davis peeked out from his blanket and looked over at Dave. 

“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or not,” Davis said. 

“I usually keep it that way. Gives me room to reach peak dumbass and also have some smarts,” Dave said. Davis snorted and sat up. He put his hand over his stomach and Dave knew what that meant. It always happened when Bro was around. “Why this time, though?” 

“Willingly going to the Makaras,” Davis explained. He drummed his fingers on his stomach. “Do you believe all the gang-cult stuff?”

“Dunno,” Dave said. “But I’m not gonna hate on the clown because of somethings his family might be up to.” 

“If I had money, I’d bet you all of it that Gamzee has a body count.”

“And yet you are broke.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Dave shrugged. He took his shades off and placed them on the end table. Davis huffed and laid back down. He put his phone and shades to the side of his mattress. 

“Bro will probably stay a bit,” Dave said. “And I can handle myself.”

Davis didn’t respond and rolled over. Dave couldn’t help but think that Davis was going overboard in his warnings. Maybe some attempt to make him go with them to the Egberts’. Dave was kind of excited to actually meet the rest of the Makaras, though. He knew them vaguely, but it was a rite of passage, right? He didn’t know shit about friendship, but meeting the parents was a thing. He was pretty sure. 

His phone went off with another message. Dave picked it up and squints against the bright light but makes no move to turn it down. He opened up the message. It was a picture of Gamzee in front of the window of the oven in which something is wrapped in tinfoil. Half of Gamzee’s stupid cute face took up half the picture, and he was grinning with lazy eyes. 

 

**Gamzee:** if u do the cooking by the book :oD

 

Dave couldn’t stop himself. 

 

**Dave:** break it down bitch let me see you back it up

**Dave:** drop that ass low

**Gamzee:** AND PICK THAT MOTHERFUCKER UP

 

They go through the rest of the song and Dave was biting his lips not to laugh. In the end, Gamzee told Dave to go to sleep. Dave told him to also go to bed. Gamzee said he was busy prepping stuff. Dave said he was busy talking to Gamzee. Dave also told Gamzee Bro would be stopping by, but probably not staying for the meal, depending on how he felt at the moment. Gamzee said it was all fine, as long as Dave got there in the end. With another one of those dorky clown faces. The message made his chest tight and face warm. 

Gamzee wore Dave down to make him go to sleep. Dave made him agree to get sleep the second he was done, too. Gamzee promised. Before they ended the conversation, Gamzee sent another picture of his food. Another pie. Dave said he was ready for death by pie. Gamzee wished him a goodnight, Dave did the same, and he placed his phone back on the charger.

Dave rolled over to the wall, pulled blankets over him, and prepped to go to sleep. There were nerves, obviously. It was an underlying current, just on the edge of conscious thought. Dave would wait until it started flooding, according to the wave metaphor, to do anything. He’d survived worse. He could live through a fucking Thanksgiving diner with Gamzee and his family.


	11. Dinner (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geeze chapter 11 already, and 100 pages on docs. i go miles for rarepairs

Dave bothered Karkat again later on about dressing up, only to get cussed out and told that Gamzee couldn’t give less of a shit. Dave chose to wear jeans with no holes and a sweatshirt that had actually been through the wash recently. He made sure his phone was charged and he had his keys before Bro drove him over. It was windy out and it made it that much colder. Dave was forced to wear his old coat. It had quite a few holes stitched close hastily by Dirk if he remembered right and there were a couple patches sewn on to hide bigger holes. 

The ride was silent and Dave felt like Bro wanted to ask questions but didn’t. Bro didn’t have reservations about being nosy so Dave was confused. It felt like he wanted to ask and weed every bit of information out that he could. But he didn’t Dave wasn’t sure which was worse. 

The music was on low and it was generic pop from the radio. Dave dug his nails into his palms a few times and picked at the dry skin on his lips. 

They got there and it was still quiet. Dave hoped and prayed to any god that Bro wouldn’t say anything. Dave opened the door of the car and went to climb out. Bro did the same and Dave felt his stomach drop miles below sea level.

It would be fine, he told himself. Bro would behave. Besides, Gamzee could fend for himself. Fighting was the reason they started to talk, after all. Dave felt sick that it’s something he had to worry about. Would Bro be intimidated by Gamzee’s father? Dude was a mountain and could definitely snap Dave like a twig. Bro was more built, so maybe not, but Dave was still worried. What if no one got along?

They were at the door. Dave rung the doorbell and tried hard not to stand there too awkwardly. He felt just as out of place as he did when dropping Gamzee’s things off. He looked like a street rat, he knew it for a fact, and Bro wasn’t much better. There weren’t people milling about on the streets as much that day. They were all at home, probably, eating with their families.

It wasn’t Gamzee that answers the door. It’s Kurloz, still tall and intimidating. His face paint was smudged a bit, and he wasn’t smiling. He looked pissed. He saw Bro first, then Dave. Dave saw the recognition flash across his face and the pissed expression lessened ever so slightly. 

Kurloz waved and signed what Dave learned from Google to be a greeting. Dave did the gesture back and Kurloz perked up a little more. Dave glanced at Bro. Bro was staring, as expected, and likely registering the purple stitches on Kurloz’s mouth. Kurloz made a wide “enter” gesture and Dave stepped inside. He was kicking his shoes off before he knew it but Bro didn’t. 

“No shoes?” Bro asked. A shiver shot down Dave’s spine. Bro was actually there, his brain said, this was happening.

“Your choice,” Dave said as Kurloz started to sign, then stop, then start again. Kurloz nodded and looked relieved, pointing at his own slip-on sneakers. Bro didn’t take off his shoes. They both left their coats on the hooks

Kurloz led them into the house further. It smelled like cooking, like Thanksgiving at the Lalonde’s faintly. No alcohol undertone, no cats, and less books. Kurloz pointed them in the direction of the living room with the astonishing sound system.

“We sit and wait?” Dave asked. He felt bad for Kurloz and made a mental note to learn more sign language. Kurloz nodded. He walked off after that, up the staircase next to a hall leading deeper into the house. 

Bro was already looking at the speakers. Dave walked to the couch after considering if he should peek in the kitchen. He sat down and checked his phone nervously. Bro looked the sound system over and inspected the CD cases lined up on shelves. 

“Not bad,” he said. 

Dave ignored the secondary gut drop that came with the reality setting in. His saving grace was that Bro said he’d be leaving before dinner. 

Footsteps came from the hall, too heavy to be Gamzee, and Dave looked over. Predictably, it was Gamzee’s father that walked into the living room. 

“Good to see you again, Dave,” he said, smiling faintly at the younger on the couch. Dave nodded and waved, feeling his hands begin to shake and twitch. Mr Makara turned to Bro. Dave went tense. Makara was at least two heads taller than Bro. Twice as broad, too. Dave could clearly tell from Bro’s posture he was not used to being the short one. You’d only notice if you knew him well. “You must be his guardian. Jarach Makara, pleasure to meet you.”

Makara extended a large hand and Bro grabbed it back too shake. Dave could see Bro was giving a stronger grip than normal. Makara didn’t seem to notice. 

“Derrick Strider,” Bro said. Wow, Dave thought, it had been a while since he heard Bro actually introduce himself to anyone. “I’m Dave’s oldest brother.”

“I hear there are a lot of you. Two Daves, even,” Makara said. He was trying very hard to be conversational. Bro was not, or didn’t know how.

“Big family,” Bro said gruffly. “You’re uh… you’re raising two teens, huh? Mine basically raised themselves.”

_ Like we had much of a choice _ , Dave thought bitterly. This isn’t the time to start shit, he told himself. He stood up and cleared his throat. Makara looked over first, Bro ignored him in favor of looking back at the CDs. 

“Is Gamzee around?” Dave asked. “Kitchen?”

“Room upstairs,” Makara said, nodding to the stairs. “Rainbow colors on the door, can’t miss it blind.”

Dave thanked him while bowing his head and absconded the fuck out of there. He wasn’t there to be Bro’s safety net. Bro would be leaving though, he told himself again. It’d be fine. 

Dave took the stairs two at a time and reaches the top hall quickly. There’s some music playing from one of the rooms, loud but not suffocating. Dave checked out all of the doors. Most were closed, save for one leading to the bathroom. The rainbow door was one of the last few. The seven colors dripped from the top of the frame like melted crayons. It wasn’t as bad as Dave thought it might be. He knocked on the door and immediately heard a curse and a crash from the other side. The music continued to play from another room.

Gamzee swung the door open, leaning on the frame to keep himself from falling. His face paint wasn’t completely done. He was wearing a button down and black pants. He brightened like the lights on a football field when he saw Dave.

“Look who it motherfucking is! Dave!” Gamzee giggled. Dave smirked and saluted with two finger. “Shit sorry I ain’t all dolled up yet, there was some stuff this morning.”

“It’s cool, don’t worry,” Dave said. “Just came to escape your dad meeting Bro.”

“Dad all up and knows how to talk to people,” Gamzee said. “He’ll save it somehow.” He stepped back and grabbed Dave’s wrist, tugging gently. “C’mon in. ‘Loz is blasting sick beats and it’s annoying.”

Dave moved inside Gamzee’s room--ignoring the feeling of… something at the idea of being in Gamzee’s space

It was sort of what he expected but also a lot cleaner. The bed was made, and there weren’t many clothes on the floor. A couple of soda bottles were in odd places on the ground but little clutter other than that. Drawings and posters covered parts of the walls. There was what Dave could only describe as one of the makeup tables in movies, with the large mirror and drawers on the sides, too. The floor was carpeted and squishy under Dave’s socks. There was a desk on the other side of the room to the make up table. It had a laptop on it, along with a pile of notebooks, sketchbooks, and pens and pencils.

Gamzee walked over to the makeup table and sat on the stool in front of it. They can still hear the music, albeit slightly less clearly.

“Nice room,” Dave said. 

“I try ta keep it presentable,” Gamzee shrugged. “I’ll be done in a sec then we can head down and get our dinner on.”

“No rush,” Dave said. Gamzee wiped the makeup smudges clean and started to reapply it. “Bro can be bad at socializing for a little while longer.” Dave hesitantly walked around the room. Gamzee also had a set of speakers, with a phone dock and CD player attached. There were a couple CD cases on top of them and Dave thumbed through them idly. A few popular ones, some alternative, and a few with names scribbled on them in black sharpie. “Why’s Kurloz blasting music? I don’t… know him but he seems… uh.”

“Nah, you’re right,” Gamzee said. He paused as he made a careful line around his eye.

“Did something… happen?” Dave asked. 

“His girlfriend,” Gamzee said. “They got into a nasty fight and had an equally motherfucking bad break up… That was the emergency back durin’ Halloween, if you remember. He’s got an angry streak. But so do the rest of us so it ain’t too outta place. All hands on deck to hold him down.” 

Dave stopped and looked at Gamzee through the mirror. 

“...Seriously?” 

“Yea. Don’t think he’ll be all in a rush to eat with us, but Dad’ll make him. Emotions don’t mean shit when you got guests to be hospitable towards. Or that’s what Dad says.” 

Dave put the CDs down and fiddled with his fingers.

“Still got stitches though.”

“Mmhmm. Motherfucker’s waxin’ poetic about the physical scars they’ll leave. Bunch ‘a motherfucking bullshit if you ask me.”

Gamzee started to pack up his paint supplies and puts on makeup sealer. 

“I thought you guys were chill,” Dave said. Gamzee shoved his things away and hopped off the stool. He walked back across the room.

“We are. Doesn’t mean motherfucker ain’t an abusive piece of shit whether he means it or not.” Gamzee said, stopping in front of Dave. Dave blinked and stared at Gamzee blankly. “What’s wro--”

“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Dave hissed. Anger was bubbling up and Dave didn’t know why. “What the fuck, Gamzee!? That shit is serious!”

“Wha--”

Dave punched him in the shoulder. Gamzee blinked like an owl and stared at Dave with an eerily still face. 

“Fucking hell, clown!” Dave almost shouted. He lowered his volume and stepped back. His head started to spin and his stomach was down in the earth’s fucking core. He felt like he was going to throw up. He didn’t even remember if he ate. He hated throwing up on an empty stomach. He would keep retching and retching but nothing would ever come out. 

Dave tried to regulate breathing but he felt like he was standing on the rooftop with Dirk and Davis with Bro opposite them. A fucking panic attack the first time he really spends time at Gamzee’s house. Fucking spectacular. 

“Bro, Dave, dude, breathe,” he heard Gamzee like he was a room or two over. “Hey, hey, I know not speaking up but let me explain.” 

“Gamzee? Kurloz? Dinner is starting in a few minutes!” Gamzee’s father sounded like he was in another building. Gamzee shouted something back, but Dave barely heard it.

Dave counted things he knew in the flurry of nonsensical terror. 

One. Gamzee was grabbing at his shoulders and arms. It’s somewhat soothing. 

Two. Dave had read enough abuse stories through Rose’s literature picks to know that speaking up wasn’t always the smart way out. 

Three. He needed to hear Gamzee out.

Four. Bro was downstairs.

Five. He refused to connect the dots. 

Dave stared straight down at his feet and counted seconds, breathing in every four and out on the eight. It took him 304 seconds, thirty-eight breaths, to think clearly. He recounted the four facts and looked back at Gamzee. 

Gamzee stared at him, waiting for anything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dave asked, quiet and pulling himself back to a normal state.

“Didn’t know it ‘til they were up and screamin’ at each other,” Gamzee said, shoulders relaxing. “Found out when we had to lock Kurloz in another fucking room. Too late on my half. Kept my nose out of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s… that’s reasonable.” Dave ran his hands down his face, rubbing at his eyes under his shades. “Reasonable. You didn’t do it on purpose. Not on purpose. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Clearly you motherfuckin’ ain’t, man, you just had a fucking attack.”

“I’m fine. I will be fine, once I eat. I’m just hungry, yeah. Hungry.”

Gamzee stepped back and gently took his hands off Dave’s arms. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. He paused before saying, “I made some extra pie for you to take home, if ya want. Apple.”

Dave nodded and snorted a laugh. He gave a thumbs up. Gamzee smiled and walked over to open up the door. The music was still playing. It was death metal, something Dave would never listen to, given free will. Gamzee led the way back down the hall and the stairs to the first floor. He talked about pies. 

“I wasn’t sure what to up and make for desert, because only apples ain’t good for ya,” Gamzee blabbed. “So I mixed it up. Got some pumpkin and blueberry, and some surprises because I forgot, but they’re all good. I’m a motherfucking miracle worker.”

“Brothers fought over the pie you gave me last time,” Dave said. He’s still quiet. They went down the stairs and towards the kitchen. 

“Aw shit, really?!” Gamzee asked. Dave nodded and couldn’t help but smile back at Gamzee’s dopey face. “Fuck, now I’m gonna feel bad not making them some!”

“Hell no,” Dave said. “You’re my pie chef. They don’t get the privilege.”

“Flattery won’t get you more pies,” Gamzee giggled and ran his hands through his curls. Dave smirked as they walked into the dining room. 

Gamzee’s father sat at the head of the table and Bro was in the seat on his left hand side. The larger man looked up, and nodded at the two younger. He stood and excused himself heading to the kitchen. The music was still audible and Dave faintly heard him mumbling about getting it turned off. 

Bro looked less awkward than at first. Gamzee walked over to the table, behind the seat opposite Bro. It wasn’t a scene Dave expected to see. They hadn’t even said anything yet and Dave hated every thing about it. 

“Pleasure to meet ya, Mister Strider,” Gamzee said, grinning like this was totally normal and Bro wasn’t responsible for the Band-Aids Gamzee had been so worried about. “Gamzee Makara.”

“Mmh,” Bro said. He shook Gamzee’s hand, not trying to squeeze harder than necessary. Dave had a feeling Gamzee would squeeze right back. “Heard some about you. Quite a place you got for three people.” 

“Heh, ain’t my place to say anything ‘bout that,” Gamzee said. Dave walked over and sat next to the seat Gamzee was standing behind. “Dad pays all the bills. I just get benefits.” 

Bro nodded. Gamzee smiled before trotting off to the kitchen. His dad came back, carrying dishes of traditional turkey that smelled like a Thanksgiving dinner should, stuffing, and some other sides on a large tray. Gamzee popped back in a few seconds after the plates were all set out with butter and other things of the like. The table had already been set. Dave shifted eagerly. He was going to eat until he passed out. 

Gamzee and his father sat back down and the older gestured for them to dig in. Dave went for the stuffing immediately. He didn’t care that Bro was staying at this point. He was still partially scattered. There was one thing he was sure of and it was that the food was good. 

After they were a good bit into the meal--Gamzee talking absently about school things and prodding Dave to add in every now and again; his father speaking ambiguously of work; and Dave fully realizing Bro was there and it meant he couldn’t be as conversational as he wanted to be--the music flicked off. Gamzee went quiet briefly and looked towards the stairs, while his father continued talking. He was really trying to get Bro to open up about his career or literally any aspect about their life. 

Kurloz strolled into the room like nothing happened, like he didn’t have blood staining his shirt and dripping from the holes where his stitches used to be. He has pajamas on, basically, and his makeup is smudged past just messy. 

Dave saw Bro tense up as Kurloz entered, but try to play it cool. Kurloz doesn’t say anything. He walked over, around the table to Bro’s side, and sitting in the seat opposite Dave and next to Bro. Gamzee continued talking as his father went silent and Kurloz filled his plate.

Bro’s phone goes off. It’s a woman moaning. Dave clapped a hand over his mouth and Gamzee stopped chewing. He answered it without pause and stood up from the table, talking in single words and clipped responses. Dave embarrassedly looked at Gamzee’s father, then Kurloz. The former was only watching Kurloz, and the latter started- to eat. Bro hung up and cleared his throat.

“Sorry to leave early,” Bro said. “Something happened at my studio. Dave.” Dave stiffened and looked up at Bro. “Call your brothers for a ride home.”

Dave nodded. Gamzee said goodbye and got no response. Bro got out of there as quick as he could go without seeming rushed. 

Dave swallowed the mouthful of food he had. Dave never thought he’d experience it. Being in the company of a fighting family that you know well, but not that well. 

“‘Loz, you’re got some on your face still,” Gamzee said after a long period of silence. 

“And what motherfucking of it?” Kurloz asked slowly. 

Gamzee’s father snapped.


	12. Dinner (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snowday bitch. we thrive and procrastinate ap tests.

It took seconds for Kurloz and Gamzee’s father to devolve into a full blown screaming match. Dave wanted to hide under the table or run to his room. Not his house, though, he couldn’t run to his room. Gamzee told him, practically in Dave’s ear so he could hear over the loud cursing, to grab his plate and fork and follow him. Dave did it on auto-pilot. 

Gamzee grabbed his own things and Dave’s wrist not with the plate. He tugged Dave along as he rushed out of the dining room and up the stairs. 

Dave was well used to tuning things out, but the screaming was louder than he was ever used to. Bro was silent when mad, more than usual. Anger was expressed in the putting down of his soda can, in the quiet huff when he looked in the fridge, in the sharp silence when anyone spoke to him. This was loud, to put gently. Screaming, curses, hands smacking against the table, plates shattering, and insults. That shit only happened in strifes, and it was rare it ever got that rough before Bro won.

Dave let himself be led by the wrist back up the stairs and to Gamzee’s room. Gamzee closed the door and locked it behind them. He didn’t turn on the lights and walked over to the speakers. He put on a song without lyrics, just noise. He walked back over next to Dave and sat on the ground with his back against the door. Dave slid down next to him. They can still hear the fight.

“Well this shit didn’t go nearly as fucking planned,” Gamzee sighed. He put his plate down between his bent up legs and rubbed his hands over his face. Dave hands were shaking, Dave realized, he tried to stop them through force of will. “I’m motherfuckin’ sorry, Dave. Shit shouldn’t be this shit. Told them to up and behave but that didn’t go far. Fuck.”

Dave put his plate down, too. He wasn’t hungry anymore, he couldn’t be. This was too much for a few hours. Way too fucking much. Gamzee rolled his shoulders back and scratched at his neck. 

“Could’ve been worse,” Dave said. “Could’ve been at my house.” That got a chuckle. “You can’t control family.”

Gamzee hunched back over until his ears were between his knees. He was basically bent in half. Dave felt like he should pat his back or offer soothing words but he was still reeling.

“D’you get… yelled at too?” Dave asked. 

“Only when I deserve it,” Gamzee said.

“No one  _ deserves _ to get yelled at.”

“This is how it just motherfucking be.”

“No it isn’t. It-It shouldn’t be, at least.” Dave ran his hands through his hair, getting caught on knots he neglected to brush out. He felt like he was going to cry. He still didn’t know why his emotions were kicking into overdrive. “Fuck this is far too much for a single fucking afternoon.”

Gamzee poked at his food with his fork. There was another loud crash followed by more screaming. Dave took deep breaths again. Rose was going to have a field day picking apart every detail of the afternoon if Dave told her. Dave wanted to sleep. It was all so exhausting. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse than having to face John’s perfect dinners. 

What was that shitty saying Dave heard in a show once? Every happy family is the same, every unhappy was fucked up in their own special way.

Dave slid further down the wall until it was just his head and shoulders propped up. Gamzee bent forward even further, picking at the carpet. 

“Kurloz should be fine,” Gamzee whispered. “Kurloz will be fine. Dad don’t fucking hit us, just the shit around us.” 

Dave tucked his cold hands under the hem of his shirt and traced a scar that ran up his hip bone. He said, “Don’t mean it’s any better.”

Gamzee looked at him under one of his legs. Dave tapped his stomach idly. Gamzee watched him quietly for a little bit, before frowning and looking away again. Dave looked up at the ceiling, not like Gamzee could tell through the shades. The music switched to another lyric-less track. It only did more or less the same to muffle the screaming and shouting. 

“Your bro… the one with the hat,” Gamzee started. Dave wanted to tense but he was too tired. “He… he’s dangerous, ain’t he?”

“What?”

“You learn what ta look for after a while,” Gamzee said. He sat up a little and put his chin on his knees. “Eyes are the real teller, but couldn’t see with all your Strider shades and shit. But it’s in his fingers. Posture. Can’t afford to be wrong about this motherfucking shit as a Makara.”

Dave paused before asking, “So the Makara gang stuff is true?” 

He thought when or if he asked that, it would be tense and he’d be terrified. He didn’t think it would be the easiest thing he’d do all night. 

“Heard about that?” Gamzee asked.

“Davis. Other Dave. He uh… heard about it up east-coast and told me about it when I mentioned you the first time,” Dave explained. Gamzee laughed humorlessly. “I wasn’t going to ask. Like it’s your business. And ignorance is bliss in that kind of stuff, I’m pretty sure. Not like I have experience which is a surprises, not gonna lie, with the shit Bro runs and gets into. It’s really fucking surprising now that I think about it. Anyway, I wasn’t going to ask because I don’t need to know really. I mean, I’m curious, and I’ll listen if you want to talk about it but I won’t make you. I’m gonna shut up now.” 

Gamzee looked at him with a little smirk. Dave raised an eyebrow over his shades. It was hard to see clearly in the room when it was already dark in there. The light outside was starting to dim before the streetlights would go on. It put the white carpet in an orange-yellow tint, the light cast through the window reached their feet, and part of Gamzee’s face with the way he was bent over. It was weird with the facepaint. Dave could see a part of the raised skin of his scars. 

“That’s the first time you’ve stopped yourself,” Gamzee snickered. Dave huffed a laugh. “Ta think it’s motherfucking over little ole me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, clown,” Dave said. Gamzee giggled and Dave smiled up at the ceiling. The shouting was getting quieter downstairs. “Are you ever scared of your… guardian?” Gamzee didn’t respond. “Nevermind, stupid question.”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Gamzee said. “But people don’t ask that kind of thing when they just mean sometimes.” It was Dave’s turn not to say anything. “Question for a question?”

“Huh?”

“Kark and I did it when we were all and talking for the first time online,” Gamzee explained, leaning back on the door and gesturing vaguely. Dave pushed himself up so he was sitting instead of mostly laying down. “I ask a question, you ask a question, and we go back and forth until we’re done.”

“Questions about what?”

“Anything? Whatever, really. Whatever you want. If you don’t wanna answer, you don’t gotta but you gotta answer another one. You can only ask after you answer. Now I answered one of your questions, so I’m gonna ask you something, get it?” 

Dave nodded. He understood it clearly. They tried games like that at summer camp and at the start of freshman year. John and Jade were always gungho about the stupid games. Dave was never one of those kinds of people. He didn’t like the tediousness of it. Only two people could work, though, he guessed, and he did want to ask about the gang thing. 

Gamze brightened up a little and stretched his legs out. He almost kicked his plate. 

“Okay, first one. It’s gonna be a toughy,” Gamzee said. Dave was worried instantly. “That your natural hair color? It’s been bugging me for a while.”

“Yeah?” Dave answered. Not what he expected. “Trademark of a Strider outside the shades. Pale as fuck. Skin and hair.” Gamzee nodded like Dave just bestowed the knowledge of the universe on him. “My turn, then… Are you like… really involved with the gang shit?”

Gamzee blinked and then tilted his head up at the dark ceiling. It was getting genuinely dark at that point.

“Parts? Not really, but I show up when I gotta. I talk when told. Dress up, wear a suit, carry a gun, know how to use a knife. Defense stuff more than anything,” Gamzee explained. “Dad gets me stuff to cope with all the head shit. Skims some off the top. That’s about as deep as I get. Try’na keep my nose as clean as motherfucking possible.” Dave nodded along. He didn’t know much about inner workings of stuff like that to contradict Gamzee. “Okay, actually toughy because you’re breaking out the motherfucking big guns right away. Just gonna be yes or no. Bro gave ya bruises and the cuts I asked ya about ages ago, right?” 

Dave didn’t think. He really didn’t want to any more. He had a feeling it was going to come up. Gamzee wasn’t a fucking idiot no matter how many people thought it. He was smart and he noticed things like Bro’s mannerisms. He read people like fucking books. Dave really just didn’t want to care any more. It fucking sucked. His head felt cloudy and he just wanted to sleep and get clear answers to all the wonderings that he was being forced to have then and there. 

His voice was rougher than he wanted when he answered, “Yeah.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Yeah.”

Gamzee wrapped him in his arms. Dave’s hands were still shaking. Dave was surprised in himself when he went limp and just let Gamzee hold him up. Gamzee hummed quietly in surprise, too, and shifted to better hold him up. Dave was practically in his lap by the time Gamzee stopped moving. He placed his chin on Dave’s head and gently ran long fingers through his hair. Dave tucked his arms around Gamzee’s waist and leaned into his chest. 

His shades got skewed but he couldn’t care. He was already falling asleep. Gamzee asked quietly if he could move. Dave gave a very articulate “hell yeah, man, follow your dreams.” It was like feeling through a blanket or ten. The same feeling that washed over him after a harsh day starting and ending with a strife, or after Dirk patched him up, especially after Davis went missing. Emotional burnout, Rose called it when Dave actually let her get her metaphorical nails into his brain. 

Gamzee picked him up and moved him somewhere. Dave eventually shoved his shades off when they dug into his nose and the sides of his head. He was out a minute later. Gamzee continued to pet his hair.

  
  


Dave woke up when the sun was just rising again. He hardly realized. He was busy savoring the warmth and weight of wherever he was. He blinked his eyes open bit by bit. Bro would have had him outside in winter in his underwear if it took him that long to wake up in the apartment. It’s that instinctual fear that makes him take stock of everything around him. 

It’s Gamzee’s room. Still neat, still tidy, but with two plates of thanksgiving dinner sitting on the make up table. More crucially, it’s Gamzee’s bed he’s sitting on. A couple of the sheets were pulled over him and not kicked around to all hell. Dave was a restless sleeper. He didn’t really get how they stayed in place. Then came the most crucial detail of the room on that soon to be sunny Friday. Gamzee was holding him like a koala on a tree branch. One arm was thrown over Dave’s chest and a leg wrapped around one of Dave’s. His other arm was under his head and his head was resting on Dave’s shoulder. Somehow he seemed smaller than Dave in that moment, folded and cuddled up. 

Cuddled up, Dave’s brain helpfully repeated. Dave’s face went tomato red, he could fucking see it in the mirror. He sat up, despite not wanting to move, and Gamzee grumbled in his sleep. Gamzee’s makeup had been cleaned off at some point. His face squished the scars awkwardly but… cutely. 

Dave stretched a bit and decided not to ignore the last thought. He decided not to give a flying fuck and laid back down. It was still too early for regrets and emotional hang ups. Once he was back where he was, Gamzee scooted in again, this time putting his cheek on top of Dave’s head. Dave closed his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep again. It was touch and go. 

Gamzee woke up maybe an hour after Dave’s initial wake up. Him moving made Dave snap awake too, avoiding any of that instinctual scare. Gamzee sat up and rubbed at tired eyes, popping his back. Dave watched him, keeping as still as he could. It was weird. His shades weren’t digging into his face. Gamzee leaned back on his palm and looked over his shoulder at Dave. He smiled.

“Ain’t never seen real red eyes,” Gamzee said. “Pretty.”

Dave knew he was flushing bright red again. He clapped a hand over his eyes and sat up abruptly. He glanced around and found his shades sitting on the end table, folded neatly and placed so the lenses wouldn’t get scratched. 

Gamzee didn’t react, just yawned and flopped back, picking at his hair. He was still wearing the clothes he wore yesterday, as was Dave. Dave put his shades on and patted his pockets to find his phone. Missed messages from Rose, John, Jade, Dirk, and Davis. Rose, John, and Jade’s texts were from during dinner, telling him to enjoy himself and relax. Dirk and Davis both were asking where he was late the previous night. Dave quickly texted them to say he was fine and just fell asleep at Gamzee’s. 

Dave put his phone down on the end table and turned to look at Gamzee again. Gamzee was scratching at his stomach, still sleepy like nothing happened. Like Dave didn’t admit Bro beat the shit out of him from time to time. Like Gamzee didn’t admit to being in a gang. 

“Did anything happen while I was out?” Dave asked. 

“Uhh, not really. You took your shades off motherfucking whining about it pinching or some shit, then you passed out,” Gamzee explained. “I cleaned up my face and then also slept. If anything happened after that, dunno.”

“You sleep like a fucking rock, I can infer,” Dave chuckled. Gamzee grinned at him. He rolled over the side of the bed and onto his feet. He stretched again, reaching as high as he could. “... What now?” 

“What d’ya mean?” Gamzee asked. He walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. 

“Y-You know… about Bro,” Dave said quietly. “I know about your Makara group shit. What now?”

“I don’t get it. We’re just all up and motherfucking closer now, man, we don’t gotta change shit,” Gamzee said. “You wanna shower? You can borrow some of my clothes if you want. It’s better than putting on dirty clothes after.”

Dave stared at Gamzee’s back for a little while before saying yeah. He stood up as Gamzee searched through his drawers. He checked his phone again and found a thumbs up from Dirk followed by “ _ Bro hasn’t come back from wherever he went. _ ” He pulled up his and Karkat’s conversations.

**Me:** i think i kinda maybe sorta a bit like gam

**Karkles:** WHAT THE FUCK STRIDER


End file.
